BY  MEREDITH  NICHOLSON 

BROKEN   BARRIERS 

BEST  LAID  SCHEMES 

THE  MAN  IN  THE  STREET 

BLACKSHEEP !   BLACKSHEEP  ! 

LADY   LARKSPUR 

THE  MADNESS  OF  MAT 

THE  VALLET  OF   DEMOCRACY 


CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


BROKEN  BARRIERS 


BROKEN  BARRIERS 


BY 


MEREDITH  NICHOLSON 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
1922 


COPYRIGHT,  1922.  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


COPYRIGHT,  mi.  1922,  BY  THE  INTERNATIONAL  MAGAZINE  CO. 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


Published  September,  1922 


TO 
RAY   LONG 

WITH  AFFECTIONATE  REGARD 

AND  IN  TOKEN  OF 

THE    OLD    HOOSIER    FELLOWSHIP 
OF  MONTGOMERY  AND  BOONB 


BROKEN  BARRIERS 


BROKEN    BARRIERS 

CHAPTER  ONE 


As  the  train  sped  through  the  night  Grace  Durland 
decided  that  after  all  it  didn't  matter  so  much! 

She  had  parted  tearfully  from  the  girls  at  the 
sorority  house  and  equally  poignant  had  been  the  good- 
byes to  her  friends  among  the  faculty;  but  now  that 
it  was  all  over  she  was  surprised  and  a  little  mystified 
that  she  had  so  quickly  recovered  from  her  disap- 
pointment. Bitterness  had  welled  in  her  heart  at  the 
first  reading  of  her  mother's  letter  calling  her  home. 
Her  brother  Roy,  always  the  favored  one,  was  to  re- 
main at  the  University  to  finish  the  law  course,  for 
which  he  had  shown  neither  aptitude  nor  zeal,  and 
this  hurt  a  little.  And  they  might  have  warned  her 
of  the  impending  crisis  in  the  family  fortunes  be- 
fore she  left  home  to  begin  the  fall  term,  only  a 
month  earlier. 

But  her  resentment  had  passed.  The  spirit  of 
adventure  beat  in  her  breast  with  strong  insistent 
wing.  With  the  fatalism  of  imaginative  youth  she 
was  already  assuring  herself  that  some  force  beyond 
her  control  had  caught  her  up  and  was  bearing  her 
on  irresistibly. 

She  lay  back  at  ease  in  her  seat  in  the  day 
coach,  grateful  that  there  were  no  acquaintances  on 
the  train  to  interrupt  her  reveries.  She  was  twenty- 

i 


2  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

one,  tall,  slightly  above  medium  height  and  bore 
every  mark  of  sound  health  and  wholesome  living — 
a  fair  representative  of  the  self-reliant  American  girls 
visible  on  the  campus  of  all  Mid-Western  colleges. 
The  excitement  of  her  hasty  packing  and  leave-taking 
had  left  a  glow  in  her  olive  cheecks.  Her  hair,  where 
it  showed  under  her  sport  hat,  was  lustrous  black; 
her  eyes  were  brown,  though  in  shadow  they  changed 
to  jade, — variable,  interesting  eyes  they  were,  that 
arrested  attention  by  their  quick  play  of  emotion. 
They  expressed  her  alert  intelligence,  her  frank  curios- 
ity, her  sympathetic  and  responsive  nature. 

When  the  train  reached  Indianapolis  she  left  her 
trunk  check  with  the  transfer  agent  and  boarded  a 
street  car.  At  Washington  street,  she  transferred  to 
the  trolley  line  that  ran  down  New  York  street,  where 
the  Durland  home  faced  Military  Park.  New  York 
street  between  the  old  canal  and  the  western  end  of 
the  park  had  once  been  a  fashionable  quarter  of  the 
town,  and  the  old  houses  still  stood  though  their 
glory  of  the  Civil  War  time  and  the  years  immediately 
succeeding  had  departed.  The  Durlands  lived  in  a  big 
square  brick  house,  set  well  back  in  a  yard  that  rose 
a  little  above  the  street.  The  native  forest  trees  in 
the  lots  all  along  the  block  added  to  the  impression 
of  age  imparted  by  the  houses  themselves.  Under  the 
branches  of  the  big  walnut  in  the  Durland  front  yard 
the  neighborhood  children  of  Grace's  generation  had 
gathered  to  play.  The  tree  was  identified  with  her 
earliest  recollections;  it  had  symbolized  the  stability 
of  the  home  itself. 

She  pushed  open  the  iron  gate  and  hurried  up  the 
brick  walk.  Her  ring  brought  her  mother  to  the 
door,  clutching  a  newspaper. 

"Why,  Grace!    I  had  no  idea " 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  3 

She  caught  the  girl  in  her  arms,  then  held  her  away, 
looked  into  her  eyes  and  kissed  her. 

"I'm  so  sorry,  dear!    I  know  what  it  means  to  you. 
It's  a  terrible  disappointment  to  all  of  us." 
"Oh,  I  understand  everything,  mother." 
"But  I  didn't  expect  you  so  soon.    I  don't  see  how 
you  managed  it.    I  thought  you'd  probably  wait  till 
Saturday." 

"Oh,  I  couldn't  have  done  that,  mother." 
"How's  Roy?    He  didn't  write  at  all  last  week." 
"He's  flourishing  and  sent  his  love  to  everybody. 
He  promises  to  work  harder  than  ever  now." 

"I'm  sure  he  will.  I  know  he  was  sorry  to  see  you 
leave;  he'd  know  what  a  wrench  it  would  be  for 
you." 

They  had  been  talking  in  the  hall,  with  Grace's 
suitcase  and  tennis  racket  lying  on  the  floor  where 
she  had  dropped  them.  She  pushed  them  out  of  the 
way  at  the  foot  of  the  old-fashioned  stair  that  rose 
steeply  just  inside  the  door. 

"Don't  bother  about  your  things  now,  Grace.  Your 
father's  in  the  sitting  room  and  Ethel's  up  in  the 
spare  room  sewing.  Have  you  had  your  supper? 
There's  some  cold  baked  chicken  in  the  ice-box  and 
I  can  make  you  some  hot  tea." 

"Oh,  I  had  supper  before  I  left,  mother." 
Mrs.  Durland  lifted  her  head  and  called  her  older 
daughter's  name  and  from  some  remote  place  Ethel 
answered.  Mrs.  Durland  was  as  dark  as  Grace,  but 
cast  in  a  larger  mold,  and  while  there  were  points  of 
resemblance  in  their  faces  there  was  a  masculine  vigor 
in  the  mother  that  the  girl  lacked.  Mrs.  Durland's 
iron  gray  hair  was  brushed  back  smoothly  from  her 
low  broad  forehead.  She  wore  an  authoritative  air, 
suggesting  at  once  managerial  capacity;  a  woman, 


4  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

one  would  say,  strongly  independent  in  her  thinking; 
self-assertive  and  obstinate,  but  of  kind  and  generous 
impulses. 

Grace  was  already  in  the  sitting  room,  where  she 
tip-toed  up  behind  her  father,  who  was  absorbed  in  a 
book  that  he  read  as  it  lay  on  the  table  before  him. 
His  bent  shoulders  suggested  that  this  was  his  habitual 
manner  of  managing  a  book.  Grace  passed  her  hands 
over  his  thick  shock  of  disordered  hair  and  patted  his 
cheek;  then  bent  and  laid  her  face  against  his. 

"Well,  here  I  am,  daddy!" 

"Not  home,  Grace!"  he  exclaimed  looking  up  at 
her  bewilderedly.  "They  didn't  tell  me  you  were 
coming." 

"I'm  a  surprise!  Nobody  knew  I  was  coming  to- 
night!" 

"Well,  well;  I  didn't  know  there  was  a  train  at  this 
hour.  It's  nice  to  see  you,  Grace." 

He  turned  to  the  open  volume  with  an  absent  con- 
fused air,  as  though  uncertain  whether  anything 
further  was  expected  of  him,  then  pushed  his  chair 
back  from  the  table.  Mrs.  Durland  had  come  in, 
followed  quickly  by  Ethel  carrying  a  work-basket 
and  a  blouse  that  she  had  been  at  work  on  when  in- 
terrupted by  the  announcement  of  her  sister's  ar- 
rival. 

Ethel  was  twenty-seven,  an  indefinite  blonde,  and 
not  so  tall  as  Grace.  Her  mother  said  that  she  was  a 
Durland,  specifically  like  one  of  her  husband's  sisters 
in  Ohio,  a  person  for  whom  Mrs.  Durland  had  never 
evinced  any  great  liking.  Mrs.  Durland  was  a  Mor- 
ley  and  the  Morleys  were  a  different  stock,  with  the 
Kentucky  background  so  precious  in  the  eyes  of  many 
Indianians.  Mrs.  Durland's  father  had  been  a 
lawyer  of  small  attainments  in  a  southern  Indiana 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  5 

county,  but  it  was  in  her  grandfather  Josiah  B.  Mor- 
ley,  who  sat  in  the  Constitutional  Convention  of  1851, 
and  was  later  a  speaker  of  the  Indiana  house  of  rep- 
resentatives, that  her  pride  concentrated.  She  had 
married  Durland  in  Rangerton,  where  as  a  young 
man  he  had  begun  with  Isaac  Cummings  the  manu- 
facture of  a  few  mechanical  specialties,  removing 
shortly  to  Indianapolis  with  a  number  of  Durland's 
inventions  and  Cummings's  small  capital  as  the 
foundation  of  their  fortune. 

"Things  have  changed  some  since  you  left,  Grace. 
And  I'm  sorry  you  had  to  quit  school,"  Durland  was 
saying,  while  Ethel,  having  greeted  her  sister,  sat 
down  by  the  smoldering  coal  fire  and  resumed  her 
sewing. 

"It's  all  right,  father,"  said  Grace,  who  had  taken 
off  her  hat  and  coat.  "I  came  back  as  soon  as  I  got 
the  news  so  you  and  mother  would  know  it's  all 
right  with  me.  We're  all  going  to  put  up  a  cheerful 
front,  no  matter  what  happens." 

"Of  course  we've  all  got  to  do  that,"  murmured 
Ethel  without  looking  up. 

"It's  hard  on  you  children,"  said  Durland.  "It's 
all  my  fault;  I've  got  nobody  to  blame  but  myself, 
Grace.  Cummings  always  seemed  willing  for  me  to 
go  on  as  I  did  for  twenty  years,  trying  to  improve 
on  the  old  patents  and  develop  new  ideas.  But  ideas 
don't  come  as  fast  as  they  used  to.  I  guess  he 
thought  he'd  got  everything  I  was  ever  likely  to  have 
to  offer." 

"It  was  certainly  unkind,  after  all  the  years  you'd 
'  been  together.  But  I  don't  believe  for  a  minute  your 
work's  done.  You'll  strike  something  bigger  than 
any  of  your  old  inventions." 

"That's  what  I've  been  telling  father,"  said  Ethel. 


6  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

"A  man  who's  spent  years  inventing  things  is  likely 
to  find  something  big  any  time.  Of  course,  without 
the  shop  father  can't  work  as  well,  but  he's  going  to 
have  a  shop  of  his  own." 

"Oh,  that's  fine,  father!"  exclaimed  Grace.  "Where 
is  the  new  place  going  to  be?" 

"It's  not  much  of  a  place,"  Durland  answered 
apologetically.  "I  rented  a  little  room  in  the  Billings 
Power  Building  and  am  going  to  run  a  pattern  and 
model  shop.  I  hope  to  get  enough  work  right  away 
to  pay  the  rent. 

"I'm  sure  you  will.  Everybody  who  knows  any- 
thing about  the  machinery  business  knows  you're  the 
inventor  of  the  only  good  things  Cummings-Durland 
make." 

"They've  changed  the  name  of  the  company  now," 
Ethel  remarked.  "They've  cut  father's  name  out." 

"They  changed  the  name  in  reorganizing  the  com- 
pany," Durland  explained  patiently  hi  his  colorless 
tone.  "I  had  some  loans  the  bank  wouldn't  carry  any 
longer;  stock  I  put  up  as  collateral  had  to  be  sold  and 
Cummings  bought  it." 

"A  man  who  will  do  a  thing  like  that  will  be  pun- 
ished for  it;  he  won't  prosper,"  said  Ethel  in  a 
curious,  strained  voice. 

Durland  frowned  at  his  older  daughter.  Evidently 
her  remark  was  distasteful  to  him;  he  found  no  con- 
solation in  the  prediction  that  unseen  powers  would 
punish  Cummings  for  his  perfidy. 

"I'd  probably  have  done  the  same  thing  if  I'd  been 
in  his  place.  Everything  he  turned  down — my  new 
ideas,  I  mean — proved  to  be  no  good  when  I  put 
my  own  money  into  'em  on  the  side.  You've  got 
to  be  fair  about  it." 

It  was  clear  that  he  set  great  store  by  the  new  shop. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  7 

The  fact  that  he  still  had  a  place  to  work  preserved 
his  self-respect.  With  a  place  in  which  to  continue 
his  experiments  he  was  not  utterly  condemned  to  the 
scrap  heap.  He  lifted  his  head  and  his  jaws  tightened. 
Grace  noted  with  pity  these  manifestations  of  a  re- 
surgence of  his  courage.  His  laborious  life,  his  few 
interests  outside  the  shop  or  more  accurately  the 
private  laboratory  he  had  maintaned  for  years  in  a 
corner  of  the  Cummings-Durland  plant;  his  evenings 
at  home  poring  over  scientific  books  and  periodicals; 
his  mild  unquestioning  assent  to  everything  his  wife 
proposed  with  reference  to  family  affairs,  all  had  their 
pathos.  She  had  always  been  aware  that  he  had  a 
fondness  for  her  that  was  not  shared  by  Roy  and 
Ethel.  Grace  imagined  that  it  was  a  disappointment 
to  her  father  that  Roy  had  not  manifested  a  mechan- 
ical bent.  In  his  gentle,  unassertive  fashion,  Durland 
had  tried  to  curb  the  lad's  proneness  to  seek  amuse- 
ment, to  skimp  his  lessons — this  in  Roy's  high  school 
days;  but  Mrs.  Durland  had  always  been  quick  to 
defend  Roy;  in  her  eyes  he  could  do  no  wrong. 

Ethel  and  her  father  were  almost  equally  out  of 
sympathy.  Ethel  was  intensely  religious,  zealous  in 
attendance  upon  a  down-town  church,  a  teacher  in 
its  Sunday  school  and  active  in  its  young  people's 
society.  While  Mrs.  Durland  had  long  been  a  mem- 
ber of  a  West  End  church  she  was  not  particularly 
religious;  she  believed  there  was  good  in  all  churches; 
but  she  was  proud  of  Ethel's  prominence  in  a  church 
whose  membership  was  recruited  largely  from  the 
prosperous.  Ethel  was  on  important  committees  and 
she  was  now  and  then  a  delegate  to  conventions  of 
church  workers  in  other  cities;  the  pastor  called  upon 
her  frequently  and  she  had  been  asked  to  dinner  at 
the  houses  of  wealthy  members  of  the  congregation, 


8  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

though  usually  some  church  business  inspired  the  in- 
vitation. In  a  day  when  the  frivolity  of  the  new  gen- 
eration was  a  subject  of  general  lamentation,  Ethel 
could  be  pointed  to  as  a  pattern  of  sobriety  and  recti- 
tude. Durland  had  ceased  going  to  church  shortly 
after  his  marriage  and  his  wife  had  accounted  to  his 
children  for  his  apostacy  on  the  ground  of  his  scien- 
tific learnings.  He  never  discussed  religion;  indeed, 
he  rarely  debated  any  question  that  rose  in  the  fam- 
ily. 

Mrs.  Durland  came  bustling  in  carrying  an  apron 
which  she  was  hemstitching  and  the  talk  at  once  be- 
came more  animated. 

"The  Cummings  are  in  their  new  house  on  Wash- 
ington Boulevard,  Grace.  They've  left  the  house  on 
Meridian  they  bought  when  they  moved  away  from 
here.  They  haven't  sold  their  place;  they've  leased  it 
for  ninety-nine  years  to  an  automobile  company. 
We're  the  only  people  on  this  block  who  were  here 
when  your  father  bought  this  house." 

Ethel  and  her  mother  engaged  in  a  long  discussion 
of  the  Cummings  family,  not  neglecting  to  abuse  Isaac 
Cummings  for  his  ungenerous  conduct  in  dropping 
Durland  from  the  business.  Meanwhile  Durland 
crossed  and  recrossed  his  short  thin  legs  to  express 
his  impatience  or  disapproval.  Nothing  interested  him 
less  than  the  Cummings  family  history;  and  his  elim- 
ination from  the  old  company  was  a  closed  incident. 

"Bob  Cummings's  wife  is  certainly  a  pretty 
woman,"  continued  Ethel.  "She's  very  popular,  too. 
You  see  her  name  nearly  every  day  in  the  society 
column.  Bob  was  always  so  quiet;  I  wonder  how  he 
likes  being  dragged  about  so  much." 

"I  shall  always  think,"  remarked  Mrs.  Durland  ex- 
pansively, "that  if  the  Cummings  hadn't  moved  away 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  9 

when  they  did  Bob  and  Grace  might — well,  I  always 
thought  he  liked  you  particularly,  Grace,  and  you 
were  fond  of  him.  Of  course,  he's  five  years  older, 
but  when  you  were  still  in  high  school  and  he  was  in 
Yale  he  always  came  to  see  you  and  took  you  places 
when  he  was  home.  But  when  they  moved  away 
everything  changed." 

"Oh,  that  didn't  amount  to  anything,  mother," 
Grace  replied  carelessly.  "He  was  always  shy  as  a 
boy  and  I  suppose  he  still  is.  After  they  moved  away 
he  didn't  know  the  girls  out  there  so  he  hung  on  to 
me  for  a  while.  He  just  used  me  to  cover  up  his 
diffidence  among  strange  young  people  at  country 
club  dances,  and  other  places  where  he  didn't  know 
many  people.  When  he  got  acquainted  out  there  he 
didn't  need  me  any  more." 

"It  would  be  like  Hetty  Cummings  to  tell  him  he'd 
better  cut  his  West  End  friends,"  said  Mrs.  Durland 
tartly.  "Even  back  in  Rangerton  she  was  always 
setting  up  to  be  better  than  most  folks.  It  must  have 
been  in  their  minds  when  they  moved  away  that  they 
were  going  to  force  your  father  out  of  the  business 
and  burn  all  the  old  bridges." 

"The  canal  bridge,"  remarked  Grace  with  a  little 
laugh  which  the  others  ignored. 

"Now,  Allie,"  said  Durland  in  mild  protest,  "they 
didn't  force  me  out.  It  was  losing  my  stock  in  the 
company  that  put  me  out." 

"It  was  merciless,"  said  Ethel,  her  voice  rising, 
"Cummings  took  advantage  of  you.  He  always  knew 
you  were  not  a  business  man.  Everything  he's  got 
came  through  your  genius." 

"I  guess  he  thought  my  genius  was  worn  out, — and 
he  may  be  right  about  it,"  said  Durland. 

"Don't  be  so  foolish,  daddy,"  said  Grace  gently. 


10  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

"Any  day  you  may  have  an  inspiration  that  will  be 
worth  a  lot  of  money." 

"It's  always  possible,  of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Durland 
with  a  little  sigh  susceptible  of  the  interpretation  that 
she  had  no  great  confidence  in  her  husband's  further 
inspirations.  "Ethel,"  she  continued,  "tell  Grace 
about  your  work." 

"Yes,  please  do,  sis,"  said  Grace. 

"Well,  I've  just  begun,"  Ethel  replied  primly.  "I 
don't  know  much  about  it  myself.  I'm  in  the  Gregg 
and  Burley  company;  they're  one  of  the  biggest  in- 
surance agencies  in  town.  Mr.  Burley's  been  ever  so 
nice  to  me.  His  little  girl's  in  my  Sunday-school  class. 
Mrs.  Burley  asked  me  to  a  birthday  party  they  had 
for  Louise  last  summer,  so  I  really  feel  that  I  know 
the  family.  I'm  handling  the  telephone  calls  and  doing 
other  little  things  till  I  get  the  run  of  the  office.  I've 
started  at  eighteen  a  week  but  Mr.  Burley  says  they'll 
raise  me  just  as  soon  as  I'm  worth  more.  There  are 
six  other  girls  in  the  office  and  one  who's  been  there 
ten  years  get  fifty  a  week  and  I  don't  see  how  they 
ever  could  get  along  without  her.  She  knows  more 
about  the  details  of  the  business  than  the  members  of 
the  firm." 

"That  sounds  good,"  said  Grace  warmly.  "I  sup- 
pose there  are  women  in  business  here  who  make  large 
salaries,  far  more  than  high  school  teachers  or  teachers 
in  colleges." 

"I  never  thought  my  girls  would  have  to  battle  for 
their  bread,"  said  Mrs.  Durland.  "I've  always  clung 
to  the  old-fashioned  idea  that  girls  should  stay  with 
their  mothers  till  they  married.  Of  course  thou- 
sands of  splendid  girls  are  at  work  in  every  kind  of 
business,  but  it's  hard  for  me  to  get  used  to  it." 

"I  don't  see  why  women  shouldn't  work  if  they  need 
to  or  want  to,"  said  Grace,  "I  think  that's  one  of  the 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  11 

things  that's  settled;  women  can  do  anything  they 
please  these  days." 

"I  can't  bring  myself  to  see  it,"  Mrs.  Durland  re- 
plied, "I  remember  that  it  seemed  queer  when  my 
father  employed  a  woman  stenographer  in  his  office." 

"Well,  times  have  changed,  mother,"  Grace  re- 
marked. "I  have  an  idea  that  I  can  sell  things;  I 
read  an  article  in  a  magazine  about  the  psychology 
of  salesmanship,  and  I  have  a  strong  hunch  that  that 
would  be  a  good  field  for  me.  The  big  stores  must 
be  taking  on  more  help  at  this  season.  I  think  I'll  see 
what  the  chances  are." 

"Grace,  surely  you're  not  in  earnest!"  cried  Mrs. 
Durland.  "Of  course  we  will  need  your  help,  but  it 
would  be  a  lot  better,  considering  your  education,  for 
you  to  take  up  teaching  or  go  into  an  office  as  Ethel's 
doing.  It's  so  much  more  in  keeping  with  your  bring- 
ing up.  It  would  break  my  heart  to  see  you  behind 
a  counter!" 

Durland  shifted  uncomfortably  in  his  chair  as  the 
matter  was  discussed.  For  years  he  had  lived  his  own 
life,  his  thoughts  centered  constantly  upon  mechanical 
projects.  He  was  now  confronted  by  the  fact  that  as 
the  result  of  his  intense  preoccupation  with  tools, 
metals  and  wood  and  his  inattention  and  incapacity  in 
business  he  was  hardly  a  factor  in  family  affairs.  He 
listened  almost  as  though  he  were  a  stranger  in  a 
strange  house,  his  guilt  heavy  upon  him.  He  started 
when  Grace  addressed  him  directly. 

"Well,  daddy,  don't  you  think  I'm  right  about  try~ 
ing  my  arts  of  persuasion  as  a  saleslady?  I've  always 
loved  that  wordl  I  think  it  would  be  fascinating." 

"You  make  it  sound  interesting,"  said  Durland  cau- 
tiously, after  a  timid  glance  at  his  wife.  "I  want  you 
to  know  it  hurts  me  to  think  that  you  girls  have  got 
to  go  to  work.  But  as  long  as  it  can't  be  helped  I  want 


12  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

you  to  do  the  best  you  can  for  yourselves.  You  ought 
to  be  sure  you  get  into  something  where  you'll  have  a 
chance  to  forward  yourself." 

"Yes,  daddy,"  said  Grace  kindly.  "I  want  to  make 
my  time  count.  If  I'm  going  to  be  a  business  woman 
I  mean  to  play  the  game  for  all  I'm  worth." 

"I  simply  couldn't  be  reconciled  to  having  you  in 
a  store,"  said  Mrs.  Durland.  "An  office  would  be 
much  more  dignified." 

"I  guess  Grace  can  take  care  of  herself,"  Durland 
ventured.  „ 

"Of  course!"  replied  Mrs.  Durland  quickly,  "we 
can  trust  our  girls  anywhere.  I  was  only  thinking 
of  the  annoyances.  I've  seen  girls  humiliated  by  floor- 
walkers— right  before  customers,  and  it  always  makes 
me  boil.  And  I'm  ashamed  to  say  there  are  women 
who  are  perfectly  hateful  to  the  clerks  who  wait  on 
them." 

"Well,  who's  afraid!"  said  Grace  cheerfully.  "School 
teachers  have  a  hard  time  too,  with  principals  and 
supervisors  pecking  at  them  all  the  time.  Now  that 
I'm  going  out  into  the  world  I'm  not  going  to  ask  any 
special  favors  because  I'm  a  woman.  The  day  for 
that's  all  passed." 

"And  it's  a  pity  it's  so!"  declared  Mrs.  Durland. 

"Oh,  mother,  I'm  for  taking  the  world  as  I  find  it!" 
She  glanced  laughingly  at  her  father  who  smiled 
at  her  approvingly.  In  his  undemonstrative  way  he 
was  relieved  that  Grace  was  meeting  the  family 
misfortunes  so  bravely.  His  courage  was  strength- 
ened by  her  very  presence  in  the  house.  Prematurely 
aged  as  he  was,  he  rejoiced  in  her  youth,  her  radiant 
vitality,  her  good  humor  and  high  spirits.  He  fol- 
lowed her  with  admiring  eyes  as  she  moved  about  the 
room.  She  bent  for  a  moment  over  the  book  he  had 
been  reading,  asked  questions  about  it,  drawing  him 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  13 

out  as  to  its  nature  and  merits.  He  was  as  happy  as 
a  boy  when  a  sympathetic  grown-up  manifests  an  in- 
telligent interest  in  his  toys. 

"I  hope  you  won't  be  in  too  much  of  a  hurry  about 
going  to  work,  Grace,"  said  Mrs.  Durland.  "It's  a 
serious  matter  for  you  and  all  of  us.  Perhaps  Ethel 
could  make  some  suggestions.  Some  of  her  church 
friends  might  be  able  to  help  you." 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  do  anything  I  can,"  Ethel  mur- 
mured without  looking  up  from  her  sewing. 

"Oh,  thanks;  I'll  certainly  call  gp  you  if  I  see  any 
place  where  you  can  help.  I've  been  thinking  about  it 
ever  since  I  got  mother's  letter,  and  I  believe  I'll  call 
up  Irene  Kirby  right  now  and  make  an  appointment 
to  see  her  tomorrojv.^  She's  been  in  Shipley's  ever 
since  she  left  high  school." 

"Now,  Grace,  please  don't  do  that,"  protested  Mrs. 
Durland,  "you  must  take  time  to  consider  your  future. 
Irene's  people  are  very  ordinary  and  I  never  liked 
your  intimacy  with  her  when  you  went  to  school  to- 
gether." 

"Why,  mother,  Irene's  one  of  the  finest  girls  I  ever 
knew!  She  was  a  good  student  in  high  school  and 
certainly  behaved  herself.  She  can  tell  me  all  about 
Shipley's  and  the  chances  of  getting  in  there." 

"I  don't  like  it  at  all,  Grace,"  replied  Mrs.  Durland. 
"It's  bad  enough  having  my  daughters  going  down 
town  to  work  but  I'd  hate  having  you  ask  favors 
of  a  girl  l^ke  Irene  Kirby.  I  don't  see  why  you  can't 
wait  a  little  and  let  Ethel  help  you  find  something 
more  suitable." 

"But  it  won't  do  any  harm  to  see  Irene  and  talk 
to  her." 

They  heard  her  voice  at  the  telephone  in  the  hall 
and  caught  scraps  of  her  lively  talk  with  Irene. 

"Grace  is  so  headstrong,"   Mrs.   Durland   sighed. 


14  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

"And  you  never  can  tell  how  any  thing's  going  to  strike 
her.  I'm  always  amazed  at  her  inconsistencies.  She's 
the  last  girl  in  the  world  you'd  think  would  want 
to  work  in  a  department  store.  She  isn't  that  type  at 
all.  Stephen,  I  wish  you'd  put  your  foot  down." 

Durland  looked  at  his  wife  blankly,  trying  to  recall 
any  other  instance  where  he  had  been  asked  to  put 
his  foot  down.  If  he  had  been  a  man  of  mirth  he 
might  have  laughed. 

"Grace  ain't  going  to  do  anything  foolish;  you  can 
trust  Grace,"  he  said. 

"What  did  Irene  say?"  asked  Ethel  when  Grace 
came  back  from  the  telephone. 

"Oh,  I  am  going  to  have  lunch  with  her  tomorrow 
at  the  store  and  she'll  tell  me  everything,"  said  Grace 
carelessly.  "Well,  daddy,  it's  about  time  for  the 
regular  evening  apple." 

There  was  a  plate  of  apples  on  the  table  with  a  knife 
beside  it,  and  Durland,  pleased  that  she  remembered 
his  habit  of  eating  an  apple  before  going  to  bed,  took 
one  she  chose  for  him  and  peeled  it  with  care,  tossing 
the  unbroken  peeling  into  the  grate. 


II 


As  Grace  and  her  mother  washed  the  dishes  and 
made  the  beds  the  next  morning  Mrs.  Durland  re- 
curred to  the  ill  fortune  that  had  brought  Grace  home 
from  the  university.  Repetition  was  a  habit  with  her, 
and  she  explained  again  and  with  more  detail  the  man- 
ner in  which  Cummings  had  thrust  her  husband  out 
of  Cummings-Durland.  She  praised  the  spirit  in  which 
Ethel  had  met  the  situation — all  this  as  a  prelude  to 
another  plea  that  Grace  should  plan  her  future  with 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  15 

care  and  not  take  the  first  employment  that  offered. 
One  of  these  days  the  right  man  would  come  along 
and  she  would  marry;  Mrs.  Durland  hoped  that  both 
her  daughters  would  marry  good  men  and  keep  up  the 
traditions  of  the  American  home. 

"Oh,  I've  never  felt  that  I'd  marry,"  Grace  re- 
plied. "The  reason  I  went  to  college  was  to  fit  my- 
self to  be  something  in  the  world;  and  now  that  I've 
got  to  begin  over  again  I'm  going  to  experiment  a 
little.  I  may  try  a  lot  of  things  before  I  find  some- 
thing that  suits  me." 

"Well,  Grace,  you  know  I've  done  the  best  I  could 
for  all  you  children.  When  my  time  comes  to  go  I 
want  to  know  that  you  are  all  happy  and  well  placed 
in  life." 

"Yes,  mother;  you've  been  wonderful  to  all  of  us. 
And  I  want  you  to  be  sure  I'm  not  bitter  about  any- 
thing. You  and  father  have  always  done  the  best 
you  could  for  us." 

It  was  a  clear,  crisp  morning  and  Grace  decided 
to  walk  the  short  distance  to  the  business  district. 
Her  buoyant  step  expressed  her  lightness  of  spirit; 
never  had  she  felt  so  well,  never  had  she  been  so  sure 
of  herself.  She  was  convinced  that  it  was  only  her 
pride  that  had  suffered  in  the  sudden  termination  of 
her  college  life  and  that  the  blow  was  not  to  any 
lofty  ideal  that  she  had  erected  for  herself.  The 
thought  of  freedom  fascinated  her.  Her  mother's  con- 
stant lament  that  the  world  was  not  what  it  used  to  be 
and  that  the  change  was  not  all  for  the  better  only 
piqued  her  curiosity.  While  the  university  had  thrown 
its  protecting  arm  about  her  she  had  not  thought  of 
perils  or  dangers;  they  were  only  the  subject  of  tedious 
warnings  by  pessimists  who  had  despaired  of  youth  in 
all  ages.  But  now  that  she  had  been  thrust  into  the 


16  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

world  she  refused  to  be  appalled  by  hints  of  unseen 
dangers;  the  fact  that  they  were  only  hints,  intima- 
tions, vague  insinuations,  only  increased  her  incredul- 
ity while  creating  a  wonder  in  her  mind  as  to  their 
exact  nature.  She  was  afraid  of  .nothing;  dared  every- 
thing. 

A  car  screeched  discordantly  as  it  negotiated  a  turn 
on  its  way  into  the  interurban  station.  She  noted  the 
faces  of  the  passengers  at  the  windows — country  folk 
and  small  town  people — and  felt  her  comradeship  with 
them.  She  had  once  heard  the  president  of  the  uni- 
versity say  that  the  state  was  like  a  big  neighborhood 
of  cheerful,  industrious,  aspiring  people,  and  the 
thought  pleased  her. 

To  Grace  the  capital  city  of  her  native  state  was 
merely  an  aggregation  of  three  hundred  and  some  odd 
thousand  people.  The  rust-colored  dome  of  the  State 
House  and  the  majestic  shaft  of  the  Soldier's  and 
Sailor's  Monument  connoted  history  and  implied 
changes  that  were  to  influence  and  affect  her  as  a  child 
of  the  commonwealth;  but  she  was  only  vaguely  con- 
scious of  them.  It  was  her  fate  to  become  an  active 
member  of  the  community  at  a  time  when  elderly  citi- 
zens, who  professed  to  believe  that  nothing  had 
changed  since  the  last  wild  turkey  was  shot  within  the 
town's  original  mile  square,  found  themselves  walking 
from  the  postoffice  to  the  old  Bates  House  site  with- 
out meeting  a  single  acquaintance.  The  languor  that 
for  years  gave  Indianapolis  a  half-southern  air  was 
gone.  Here  indeed  was  abundant  material  for  the 
student  of  change. 

Still  a  sprawling  country  town  at  the  end  of  the 
Civil  War,  Indianapolis  was  booming  gaily  when  the 
panic  of  '73  punished  it  for  its  temerity.  The  few  con- 
servative capitalists  who  patiently  sawed  wood  while 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  17 

the  bubbles  were  bursting  had  money  to  invest  when 
the  Eastern  insurance  companies  began  foreclosing 
their  mortgages  on  the  best  corners.  Such  banks  as 
survived  established  new  low  records  of  refrigeration. 
Newcomers,  stupidly  desirous  of  initiating  new  enter- 
prises, were  chilled  by  their  reception.  Melancholy 
recollections  of  the  panic  of  '73  were  long  a  sufficient 
excuse  for  restricted  credits.  Not  going  to  take  any 
chances!  As  a  matter  of  fact  they  never  had  taken 
any,  those  cautious  souls,  and  in  the  trail  of  the  whirl- 
wind they  had  gathered  enough  spoil  to  enrich  them- 
selves a  thousand  fold.  Stinginess  nobly  standardized 
by  a  few  merely,  one  might  think,  that  the  generous  of 
hand  and  spirit  might  shine  the  more  effulgently.  The 
town  got  by  the  pinching  times  of  '84  and  '93  and  con- 
tinued to  grow  right  along  until  the  automobile  craze 
arrived  with  a  resulting  multiplication  of  smokestacks. 
With  the  old  guard,  and  such  portions  of  a  new  gen- 
eration as  had  been  intimidated  by  its  caution,  sitting 
in  pigeon-toed  fear  predicting  calamity,  the  growth 
persisted. 

Prosperity  began  to  wear  strange  faces;  the  old- 
timers  didn't  know  the  new  people  or  pretended  they 
didn't.  Many  of  these  new  folk  who  rolled  over  the 
asphalt  in  large  expensive  limousines  didn't  go  to 
church  at  all.  A  singular  thing.  Once  it  hadn't  been 
respectable  to  abstain  from  church.  Spectacle  of  per- 
fectly good  citizens  riding  gaily  to  the  country  clubs 
on  Sunday  morning  without  fear  of  eternal  damnation. 
Churches  moving  uptown,  or  those  that  clung  to  their 
old  sites  trying  valiantly  to  adjust  themselves  to  chang- 
ing spiritual  needs. 

Sentiment — oodles  and  scads  of  sentiment  about  the 
town  and  its  people!  Visitors  expected  to  confess  that 
here  throbs  a  different  atmosphere — an  ampler  ether,  a 


18  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

diviner  air.  Politics,  no  end.  Statesmen  and  states- 
women  everywhere  visible.  Families  torn  asunder  by 
the  battles  of  the  primaries.  A  political  bomb  hidden 
under  the  socks  in  every  darning  basket.  The  fine 
arts  not  neglected.  An  honest ,  interest,  dating  back 
to  the  founders,  in  bookish  things;  every  mail  box  a 
receptacle  for  manuscript.  Riley  in  Lockerbie  street 
thrumming  his  lyre  with  the  nation  for  audience. 

No  reason  why  anyone  should  go  friendless  or  stray 
from  the  straight  and  narrow  path  in  a  town  so  solidly 
based  on  the  ten  commandments,  except  that  the  per- 
centage of  the  wayward  seems  bound  to  grow  with  a 
mounting  population,  particularly  when  the  biggest 
war  in  all  creation  comes  along  and  jars  most  disturb- 
ingly all  the  props  of  civilization.  Changes!  Changes 
of  course,  not  local  as  to  cause  and  effect,  but  part  of 
the  general  onward  sweep  of  the  Time-Spirit  impelled 
by  gasoline  to  jazzy  music. 

In  so  far  as  she  paid  any  attention  to  the  talk 
about  changes  that  she  had  heard  at  home  and  at  the 
university,  Grace  believed  it  was  all  for  good;  that  it 
was  well  to  be  done  with  hypocrisy,  cant,  prudishness; 
that  a  frank  recognition  of  evil  rather  than  an  attempt 
to  cloak  it  marked  a  distinct  advance.  When  she 
was  about  nine  her  mother  had  rebuked  her  severely 
for  using  the  word  leg;  a  leg  was  a  limb  and  not  vul- 
garly to  be  referred  to  as  a  leg.  The  use  of  leg  when 
leg  was  meant  was  still  considered  vulgar  by  fairly 
broadminded  folk  in  the  corn  belt,  probably  as  late 
as  1906 — if  one  may  attempt  to  fix  a  date  for  so 
momentous  a  matter. 

Grace  Durland  was  no  more  responsible  for  the 
changes  going  on  about  her  than  her  parents  had  been 
for  the  changes  of  their  day.  They  had  witnessed  the 
passing  of  the  hoop-skirt  and  red  flannel  underwear, 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  19 

the  abandonment  of  the  asafetida  bag  as  a  charm 
against  infection,  and  other  follies  innumerable.  Boys 
and  girls  had  once  stolen  down  the  back  stairs  or 
brazenly  lied  to  gain  an  evening  of  freedom;  now  the 
only  difference  was  that  they  demanded — and  received 
— a  key  to  the  front  door.  Civilization  will  hardly  go 
to  smash  over  the  question  of  a  girl's  refusal  to  wear  a 
corset  or  her  insistence  on  her  right  to  roll  her  stock- 
ings. The  generation  of  Grace  Durland  isn't  re- 
sponsible for  changes  that  began  the  day  after  creation 
and  started  all  over  again  after  the  flood  and  will  con- 
tinue right  on  to  the  end  of  all  things. 


Ill 


The  last  of  a  number  of  errands  she  had  undertaken 
for  her  mother  brought  Grace  to  Shipley's  a  little 
before  twelve.  She  observed  the  young  women  who 
waited  on  her  with  a  particular  attention  inspired  by 
the  feeling  that  she  too  might  soon  be  standing  behind 
a  counter.  Some  of  the  clerks  at  Shipley's  were 
women  well  advanced  in  middle  life,  whom  she  re- 
membered from  her  earliest  visits  to  the  establishment. 
These  veterans  contributed  to  Shipley's  reputation  for 
solidity  and  permanence.  They  enjoyed  the  friendly 
acquaintance  of  many  customers,  who  relied  upon  their 
counsel  in  their  purchases.  There  were  many  more 
employees  of  this  type  in  Shipley's  than  in  any  other 
establishment  in  town;  they  were  an  asset,  a  testi- 
mony to  the  consideration  shown  the  employees,  the 
high  character  of  the  owners.  Grace's  imagination 
played  upon  her  own  future:  what  if  she  should  find 
herself  in  ten  or  twenty  years  behind  a  counter,  am- 
bition and  hope  dead  in  her  and  nothing  ahead  but 


20  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

the  daily  exhibition  of  commodities  and  the  making 
out  of  sale  slips! 

But  this  cloud  was  only  the  tiniest  speck  on  her 
horizon.  She  had  already  set  a  limit  upon  the  time 
she  would  spend  in  such  a  place  if  her  services  were 
accepted;  it  was  the  experience  she  wanted,  and  when 
she  had  exhausted  the  possibilities  of  Shipley's  or  some 
similar  place  she  meant  to  carry  her  pitcher  of  curi- 
osity to  other  fountains. 

While  waiting  for  Irene  outside  the  lunch  room  she 
found  amusement  in  watching  the  shoppers,  studying 
them,  determining  their  financial  and  social  status. 
Some  one  had  told  her  that  she  was  endowed  with 
special  gifts  for  appraising  character,  and  she  had  the 
conceit  of  her  inexperience  as  a  student  of  the  human 
kind.  Her  speculations  as  to  the  passers-by  were  in- 
terrupted by  the  arrival  of  Irene. 

"It's  perfectly  wonderful  to  see  you  again!  I  was 
that  delighted  to  hear  your  voice  over  the  wire  last 
night.  You're  looking  marvelous!  I  always  adored 
your  gypsy  effect!  Come  along — there's  a  particular 
table  in  a  far  corner  they  keep  for  me  and  we  can 
buzz  for  just  one  hour." 

She  had  put  on  her  coat  and  hat,  to  disguise  the 
fact,  she  explained,  that  she  was  one  of  Shipley's  hired 
hands.  She  was  a  tall  blonde,  with  a  wealth  of 
honey-colored  hair,  china  blue  eyes  and  a  clear  bril- 
liant complexion.  Grace's  admiration,  dating  from 
high  school  days,  quickened  as  she  noted  the  girl's 
ease  and  the  somewhat  scornful  air  with  which  she 
inspected  the  lunch  card.  Irene's  father  was  a  loco- 
motive engineer  and  the  family  lived  in  a  comfortable 
house  on  a  pleasant  street  in  the  East  End,  not  far 
from  the  railway  shops.  Irene  had  brothers  and  sis- 
ters, but  they  did  not  share  her  good  looks  or  her  social 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  21 

qualities.  Irene  met  the  rest  of  the  world  with  a  lofty 
condescension  which  fell  short  of  being  insufferable 
only  by  reason  of  her  good  humor.  Selfishness  with 
Irene  was  almost  a  virtue,  it  manifested  itself  so  can- 
didly. She  had  no  intention  of  being  bored,  or  of 
putting  herself  out.  Ugliness  and  clumsiness  were 
repugnant  to  her.  Disagreeable  things  did  not  trouble 
her  because  she  had  schooled  herself  not  to  see  them. 
She  was  clever,  adroit,  resourceful,  and  wise  with  the 
astonishing  worldly-wisdom  that  is  the  heritage  of  the 
children  of  the  Twentieth  Century.  In  school  she  had 
been  a  fair  scholar  but  the  grand  manner  and  a  ready 
wit  had  assisted  her  even  there.  When  puzzled  by 
Irene's  ability  to  dress  better  than  most  of  her  girl 
companions  in  the  high  school,  Grace  had  been  im- 
pressed by  the  revelation  that  Irene  made  her  own 
clothes  and  could  retouch  last  year's  hat  with  a  genius 
that  brought  it  into  conformity  with  the  latest  and 
most  exclusive  designs. 

"You  still  have  the  same  queenly  look,  Irene," 
Grace  remarked. 

"Queenly  nothing!  You're  nearly  as  tall  as  I  am 
and  I  haven't  a  thing  on  you  when  it  comes  to  hauteur. 
I  suppose  the  Lord  made  me  tall  and  gave  me  square 
shoulders  just  to  hang  clothes  on  for  women  with 
money  to  look  at.  I  wish  I  had  your  black  hair.  Be- 
ing a  blonde  is  an  awful  handicap  if  you're  doomed  to 
work  for  a  living.  And  a  complexion  like  mine,  which 
is  called  good  by  experts,  is  a  nuisance.  I've  refused 
an  offer  about  once  a  month  to  go  on  the  road  selling 
and  demonstrating  cosmetics.  Can  you  see  me?" 

"I  supposed  you'd  be  married  before  this,  Irene. 
You  must  have  had  loads  of  chances." 

"Chances  but  not  opportunities,"  replied  Irene  with 
a  shrug.  Don't  tell  me  you've  quit  college  to  get 


22 

married;  it's  not  a  professor,  I  hope!  I'd  hate  to  see 
you  sacrificing  yourself  in  the  noble  cause  of  educa- 
tion." 

"Nothing  like  that.  I  quit  because  we're  broke — 
father  couldn't  afford  to  keep  me  in  college  any  longer. 
Some  one  had  to  drop  out  and  as  Roy  has  only  a 
year  more  in  the  law  school  it  seemed  better  for  him 
to  keep  on." 

"Roy?"  Irene  repeated  the  name  languidly  as 
though  Roy  were  a  negligible  figure  in  the  affairs  of 
the  Durlands. 

"My  brother,"  said  Grace. 

"Oh,  yes!"  Irene's  eyes  lighted  as  with  some  mem- 
ory. "Oh,  yes — brothers  do  rather  have  the  best  of  it, 
don't  they?  But  it's  too  bad  you  couldn't  finish. 
You're  just  the  type  of  girl  that  ought  to  be  rounded 
out  at  college." 

"Oh,  it's  all  right;  I'm  rather  glad  to  be  free." 

"Well,  I'd  dreamed  of  seeing  you  land  high  as  a 
writer  or  something  like  that.  I'll  hand  you  this  right 
now:  women  can't  know  too  much  these  days.  It's 
a  big  advantage  to  a  woman  to  know  how  to  talk  to 
men;  I  don't  mean  the  pool  room  boys  but  the  real 
men — the  men  who  draw  the  large  mazuma.  They 
have  the  brains  themselves  and  they  respect  the  same 
ingredient  in  girls,  a  lot  of  silly  ideas  to  the  contrary 
notwithstanding.  Just  by  knowing  Thackeray  I'm 
the  assistant  manager  of  the  ready-to-wear  depart- 
ment of  this  spacious  emporium — the  youngest  assist- 
ant in  the  house.  Funny,  but  it's  true!" 

Asked  for  an  elucidation  of  the  statement,  Irene  ex- 
plained that  the  general  superintendent  of  Shipley's, 
who  had  power  of  life  and  death  over  everything  per- 
taining to  the  establishment,  was  Thackeray-mad. 
Learning  this  she  had  carelessly  referred  to  "Becky 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  23 

Sharp"  in  a  chance  conversation  with  him  in  the  ele- 
vator on  a  day  when  he  deigned  to  notice  her.  In  a 
week  she  had  been  called  to  his  office  and  promoted. 

"Oh,  don't  imagine  he  was  leading  up  to  anything; 
he's  a  gentleman  with  a  wife  and  three  children  and 
teaches  a  Sunday-school  class.  But  he  yearns  to  talk 
to  some  one — any  one  who  has  a  scrap  of  interest  in 
Thackeray.  His  wife  invited  me  to  their  house  for 
Sunday  dinner  awhile  back  and  I  was  never  so  bored 
in  my  life.  But  I  did  manage  to  show  an  intelligent 
interest  in  his  library,  so  I  guess  I'll  hold  my  job." 

Irene  had  finished  at  the  high  school  two  years 
before  Grace,  but  the  difference  in  their  ages  was  not 
to  be  calculated  in  years.  Irene  had  always  seemed 
to  Grace  to  be  endowed  with  the  wisdom  of  all  the 
centuries. 

"About  those  correspondence  courses,  Grace,"  Irene 
was  saying,  "I've  had  most  of  the  stuff  on  the  sched- 
ule of  that  English  course  I  wrote  you  about.  I 
wouldn't  read  Carlyle's  'Heroes  and  Hero-worship' 
again  for  a  farm  in  Texas." 

"Or  Bacon's  'Novum  Organum',"  groaned  Grace. 

"Well — I'm  concentrating  on  French.  You  know 
I  had  French  in  high  school,  and  I'm  keeping  it  up 
in  the  hope  the  house  will  send  me  to  Paris  next  year. 
You  know  Shipley's  is  one  of  the  most  progressive 
houses  in  the  whole  west;  they  certainly  do  treat  you 
white." 

"Mother's  not  wildly  enthusiastic  about  my  going 
into  a  store.  You  know  mother;  she  thinks " 

"I  know,"  Irene  caught  her  up,  "she  thinks  it's  not 
as  respectable  as  working  in  an  office  or  teaching 
a  kindergarten.  I  met  Ethel  on  the  street  the  other 
day  and  she  told  me  she'd  taken  a  place  with  an  in- 
surance firm.  That's  all  right  for  Ethel  but  no  good 


24  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

for  you.  I  looked  over  the  office  game  before  I 
decided  to  come  here  and  there's  nothing  to  it,  my 
dear.  You  can  make  a  good  thing  of  this  if  you  have 
selling  talent.  My  salary  is  nothing  to  speak  of  but 
I  get  a  bonus — I  drew  seventy-five  dollars  last  week 
and  I  expect  to  hit  the  hundred  mark  before  Christmas. 
They  steer  the  customers  who  look  like  real  money 
to  me.  When  you've  learned  the  trick  you  can  make 
them  think  it's  a  disgrace  not  to  buy  the  highest 
priced  thing  we  carry.  The  women  from  the  country 
towns  whose  husbands  have  grabbed  the  water  power 
on  'Possum  creek  or  foreclosed  on  ninety  per  cent 
of  the  farmers  in  the  township,  bring  said  husbands 
along  and  they  are  the  easiest.  I  throw  the  wrap  or 
whatever  it  is  on  my  own  stately  person,  then  clap 
it  on  the  wife  and  hubby  doesn't  dare  let  his  wife 
suspect  he  doesn't  think  her  as  much  of  a  Venus  de 
Milo  as  I  am!  A  modest  little  violet!" 

"Oh,  Irene!"  cried  Grace,  enchanted  with  her 
friend's  wisdom. 

She  marveled  at  Irene's  poise,  and  envied  her  the 
light  ironic  flick  she  gave  to  the  business  of  bargain 
and  sale.  Irene  complained  in  the  most  ladylike  man- 
ner of  the  chicken  salad,  which  Grace  had  thought 
very  good.  The  head-waitress  listened  respectfully 
and  offered  to  substitute  something  else,  but  Irene  de- 
clined, with  the  indifference  of  one  to  whom  petty  an- 
noyances are  merely  incidental  and  to  be  mentioned 
merely  for  the  good  of  the  service. 

As  they  ate  their  chocolate  eclairs  Grace  became 
impatient  to  broach  the  matter  of  her  own  ambition 
to  become  a  factor  in  Shipley's,  but  it  seemed  a  pity 
to  break  in  upon  Irene,  who  went  on  tranquilly  dis- 
cussing their  old  companions  of  high  school  days.  Pres- 
ently, after  paying  the  checks,  she  brought  her  wrist 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  25 

watch  within  range  of  her  eyes  with  a  graceful  gesture, 
and  disposed  of  the  matter  with  characteristic  ease. 

"I've  spoken  to  Miss  Lupton — she  manages  our  em- 
ployment bureau — about  you.  She's  a  very  good 
friend  of  mine;  and  I  mentioned  you  to  Miss  Board- 
man,  the  head  of  my  department.  I  didn't  wait  to  ask 
where  you'd  rather  be;  but  of  course  I'd  like  to  have 
you  with  me.  I  can't  just  see  you  in  the  toilet  goods 
or  infants'  wear.  They're  pretty  full  in  all  depart- 
ments, but  I  think  I've  got  you  fixed." 

"Oh,  Irene " 

"All  you  do  is  to  fill  out  an  application  blank — 
they  always  require  that — and  give  two  references. 
You've  had  no  experience,  but  your  figure  and  general 
intelligence  will  more  than  balance  that.  They  do 
their  best  to  keep  the  standard  high  and  it  won't  be 
lost  on  them  that  you're  of  good  family  and  have  taken 
a  whirl  at  college." 

"I'm  certainly  obliged  to  you,  Irene.  I  didn't  know 
it  would  be  as  easy  as  this — but" — she  laughed,  "they 
haven't  seen  me  yet!" 

"Don't  fish!  Your  appearance  is  nothing  to  com- 
plain of;  you  know  that  as  well  as  I  do.  It  will  be 
fine  to  have  you  where  we  can  talk  and  play  together 
as  we  did  in  school.  Between  us  we  ought  to  be  able 
to  give  tone  to  our  end  of  the  shop!" 

IV 

Miss  Lupton  received  Grace  amiably,  asked  her  a 
few  questions,  and  pushed  a  blank  toward  her. 

"We  always  require  this;  it's  just  a  matter  of  rou- 
tine," she  explained,  and  as  Grace  filled  in  the  blank 
she  looked  at  Irene  and  nodded  her  approval  of  the 
candidate. 


26  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

Miss  Boardman,  a  woman  of  forty,  short,  plump  and 
brisk  in  manner  and  speech,  surveyed  Grace  with  full 
appreciation,  remarking  that  Miss  Kirby  had  covered 
all  the  details. 

"We'll  be  ready  for  you  Monday  morning,"  she  said. 
Then  she  directed  Irene's  attention  to  a  lady  who  had, 
she  explained,  inspected  all  the  garments  in  the  shop 
and  still  lingered,  a  prey  to  uncertainty.  "Miss  Flagg 
doesn't  seem  to  be  getting  anywhere  with  that  woman. 
It's  a  Mrs.  Bascomb  from  up  in  the  state  somewhere — 
Muncie  or  Anderson,  or  maybe  Delphi.  She's  a 
new  customer  and  the  fussiest  person  I  ever  saw. 
Maybe  you  can  help  Miss  Flagg,  Miss  Kirby,  but  be 
careful  not  to  rattle  her.  Very  glad  to  know  you,  Miss 
Durland.  You  will  begin  at  twelve  fifty;  Miss  Kirby 
will  explain  about  the  bonuses  and  other  little  things." 

"Watch  me  work,"  said  Irene,  her  eyes  upon  Miss 
Flagg's  customer.  "You  can  sit  right  here." 

Without  taking  off  her  coat  and  hat  Irene  walked 
toward  the  customer  and  clerk  who  were  evidently  in 
a  hopeless  deadlock.  Grace  saw  the  slight  gesture  with 
which  Irene  signalled  to  Miss  Flagg.  The  import  of 
the  signal  was  evidently  that  Miss  Flagg  was  to  con- 
tinue her  attentions  to  the  lady  from  Muncie,  An- 
derson or  Delphi  while  Irene  idly  examined  the  gar- 
ments heaped  on  a  table,  with  which  Miss  Flagg  had 
been  tempting  her  difficult  shopper.  Irene  picked 
out  a  coat,  held  it  at  arm's  length,  and  slipped  it  on. 
Walking  to  a  glass  she  passed  back  and  forth  the 
better  to  observe  the  effect  of  the  garment  upon  her 
own  person. 

Miss  Flagg's  customer  became  interested,  watching 
Irene  enviously,  and  the  moment  the  girl  divested  her- 
self of  the  garment  she  took  it  up.  The  lady  from 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  27 

Muncie,  Anderson  or  Delphi  exchanged  a  few  words 
with  Irene;  and  again  Irene  put  on  the  coat.  Irene 
was  soon  discussing  with  her  the  merits  of  other  rai- 
ment which  Miss  Flagg  produced  from  the  show  cabi- 
nets. Grace  watched  intently,  hearing  nothing  of  the 
talk  of  the  trio,  but  interpreting  the  pantomime.  Irene 
had  evidently  assumed  the  role  of  adviser  in  the  deli- 
cate matter  of  the  lady's  choice.  Presently  she  took 
off  her  hat,  disclosing  the  fact  that  she  was  a  member 
of  the  selling  staff  of  the  establishment.  Two  gowns 
having  been  added  to  the  wrap  and  the  lady  from 
the  more  northern  provinces  having  been  escorted  to 
the  fitting  room,  Irene  returned  to  Grace. 

"Six  hundred  dollars  worth,"  she  said,  flicking  a 
raveling  from  her  sleeve.  "I'll  stay  on  the  job  till  she's 
given  her  shipping  order.  Miss  Flagg  is  one  of  our 
best  saleswomen;  but  she  just  didn't  hit  it  off  with 
that  woman.  They  were  both  tired  and  irritating  each 
other.  If  I'd  butted  in  and  taken  her  away  from  Miss 
Flagg  that  would  have  spoiled  everything.  I  saved  the 
day  by  pretending  I  wasn't  interested  in  her  at  all; 
but  now  she  knows  I  belong  here  and  she  wants  me  to 
come  back  to  the  fitting  room  and  make  sure  her 
things  are  all  right.  All  she  needed  was  a  little  coax- 
ing and  the  right  kind  of  flattery.  You'd  better  not 
wait  unless  you  want  to  watch  the  show  a  while. 
There's  a  convention  of  women's  clubs  in  town  and 
we're  likely  to  be  rushed  this  afternoon." 

"I'll  run  along,"  said  Grace.  "And  thank  you  ever 
so  much." 

On  her  way  to  the  elevator  she  passed  a  clerk  who 
was  patiently  answering  the  questions  of  a  captious 
customer  as  to  the  merits  of  a  garment. 

"I  don't  know  about  this,"  said  the  woman  pecking 


28  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

at  the  silk  lining  in  the  sleeve;    "it  looks  cheap." 

"What's  the  difference,  lady,"  exclaimed  the  girl, 
"nobody's  going  to  notice  the  lining." 

Grace  smiled.  The  girl's  phrase  fastened  itself  in 
her  memory.  "What's  the  difference,  lady?"  It  was 
susceptible  of  many  interpretations  and  applications 
not  related  to  suits  that  sold  for  $19.50. 

She  left  the  store  elated,  feeling  herself  already  an 
essential  unit  of  Shipley's.  The  great  lower  room 
seemed  larger  than  when  she  had  entered.  She  went 
into  the  book  department  and  idled  over  the  counters, 
opening  volumes  that  roused  her  interest.  She  had  no 
intention  of  relinquishing  her  interest  in  bookish  things. 
She  would  test  life,  probe  into  the  heart  of  things,  but 
she  would  hold  fast  to  all  that  she  had  gained  in  her 
two  years  at  the  university.  She  had  been  impressed 
by  what  the  worldly-wise  Irene  had  said  of  the  value 
of  a  little  learning  in  getting  on.  She  meant  to  pro- 
pose to  her  friend  that  they  attack  French  together; 
and  there  were  many  lines  of  reading  she  intended 
to  pursue  with  a  view  to  covering  the  more  important 
cultural  courses  which  she  had  been  obliged  to  aban- 
don. Grace  rejoiced  in  her  sense  of  freedom;  she  was 
tremendously  sure  of  herself. 

When  she  reached  home  her  mother  was  leaving  for 
the  first  fall  meeting  of  the  West  End  Literary  Club 
which  had  held  together  for  years  in  spite  of  the  de- 
terioration of  the  neighborhood.  Mrs.  Durland  made 
much  of  her  loyalty  to  the  organization,  of  which  she 
had  been  the  founder.  While  her  old  friends  had 
dropped  out  when  they  moved  away  she  thought  it 
her  duty  to  fill  up  the  membership  with  new  arrivals 
in  the  neighborhood.  Women  needed  the  inspiration 
of  just  such  a  society.  She  had  enrolled  a  number 
of  young  married  women,  some  of  them  hardly  more 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  29 

than  transients  domiciled  in  boarding  houses,  with  a 
view  to  keeping  them  in  touch  with  the  best  thought 
of  the  world.  Ethel,  sharing  her  mother's  interest  in 
all  movements  and  devices  for  uplift,  had  acted  as  her 
scout  in  discovering  these  recruits. 

"Well,  Grace,  I  hope — "  Mrs.  Durland  began,  gath- 
ering up  a  number  of  magazines  she  was  carrying  to 
the  meeting. 

"I've  done  gone  and  done  it,  mother!  I  go  to  work 
at  Shipley's  Monday  morning." 

"I  was  afraid  you  would,"  said  Mrs.  Durland  with  a 
sigh.  "You're  so  headstrong,  Grace.  With  a  little 
patience  we'd  have  found  something  more  suitable — 
more  in  keeping " 

"Well,  I  may  not  like  it.  If  I  don't  I'll  change  to 
something  else,  so  please  don't  worry  about  it." 

Mrs.  Durland  had  mislaid  a  glove;  the  loss  of  it 
overshadowed  immediately  her  daughter's  grievous 
error  in  accepting  employment  in  a  department  store. 
Grace  found  the  glove  and  held  the  magazines  while 
her  mother  drew  it  on. 

"The  old  security,  the  reticences  and  decencies  of 
life  have  passed,"  said  Mrs.  Durland.  Grace  suspected 
that  her  mother  was  quoting  from  a  magazine  article 
or  a  club  paper.  She  declined  an  urgent  invitation 
to  go  to  the  meeting;  she  wanted  to  look  over  her 
clothes,  she  said. 

"I  hope  you'll  not  give  up  your  interest  in  literature 
now  that  you're  going  to  work.  You  should  save  a  lit- 
tle time  every  day  for  self-culture.  There  are  some 
new  books  on  that  line  I  want  you  to  read.  I  some- 
times think  the  poorer  we  are  the  more  we  lean  on  the 
things  of  the  spirit." 

"I've  already  decided  to  do  some  studying,"  said 
Grace,  who  at  the  moment  didn't  feel  the  need  of  lean- 


30  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

ing  on  anything.  She  was  relieved  that  her  mother, 
preoccupied  with  the  club  meeting,  had  so  lightly 
passed  over  the  matter  of  her  engagement  at  Shipley's. 
"If  I'm  not  back  at  five-thirty,  put  on  that  pot- 
roast,"  said  Mrs.  Durland  from  the  door.  "It's  all 
fixed  in  the  ice  box.  And  if  that  collector  comes  about 
the  coal  bill  tell  him  I'll  call  at  the  office  the  next 
time  I'm  down  town.  That  last  load  we  had  was  full 
of  slate  and  I'm  not  going  to  pay  the  bill  till  they 
make  it  right." 


CHAPTER  TWO 
I 

"  I  MUSTN'T  seem  to  be  too  much  interested  in  you," 
said  Irene  when  Grace  reported  for  duty  at  Shipley's 
on  Monday  morning.  "I  can't  play  favorites  and  it 
wouldn't  do  to  make  the  other  girls  jealous.  The  first 
few  days  everything  will  seem  strange  but  all  you  have 
to  do  is  to  stand  around  and  keep  your  eyes  open.  Be 
nice  to  everybody — that's  the  card  to  play.  One  girl 
in  a  department  can  make  all  the  rest  uncomfortable. 
Miss  Boardman's  a  little  sharp  sometimes — but  never 
talk  back!  She  knows  her  business  and  prides  herself 
on  keeping  away  ahead  of  her  quota  of  sales.  The 
management  is  strong  for  esprit  de  corps  and  there's  a 
social  club  that's  supposed  to  promote  that  sort  of 
thing.  There'll  be  a  few  dances  during  the  winter  and 
a  theatre  party  and  a  few  little  things  like  that.  You 
won't  mind  them.  They're  really  good  fun." 

Grace  was  number  eighteen.  Her  investiture  with 
a  number  was  the  only  real  shock  she  experienced  in 
taking  her  place  in  Shipley's.  One  of  her  new  asso- 
ciates who  was  instructing  her  in  the  routine,  which  be- 
gan with  inspection  of  the  stock,  tightening  of  buttons, 
the  repair  of  minor  damages  incurred  in  the  handling 
of  garments,  addressed  her  casually  as  "Eighteen"  as 
though  that  had  been  Grace's  name  bestowed  in  bap- 
tism. For  an  instant  Grace  resented  her  numerical 
designation;  it  was  almost  as  though  she  had  been 
robbed  of  her  identity.  Miss  Boardman  had  given  her 
a  quick  looking  over  to  satisfy  herself  that  the  new  em- 
ployee met  the  store's  requirements  as  to  raiment.  She 

31 


32  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

nodded  her  approval  of  the  frock  of  dark  taffeta  which 
Grace  had  worn  to  simple  afternoon  affairs  at  college 
and  told  her  to  watch  the  other  girls  and  lend  a  hand 
where  she  could. 

Miss  Boardman  was  beyond  question  a  person  of 
strong  executive  talent.  Though  burdened  with  much 
desk  work  as  the  head  of  the  department,  nothing 
escaped  her  watchful  eye  on  the  floor  confided  to  her 
care.  By  eleven  o'clock  the  ready-to-wear  pre- 
sented a  scene  of  greatest  animation.  The  day  was 
fine  and  a  throng  of  out-of-town  customers,  lured  by 
double  page  advertisements  of  fall  apparel  in  the 
newspapers,  were  attacking  the  department  in  daunt- 
less battalions.  Grace  was  constantly  on  the  alert, 
keeping  the  much-examined  stock  in  order,  conducting 
customers  to  the  trying-on  room,  and  otherwise  mak- 
ing herself  useful  to  the  experienced  clerks. 

A  spectacled  old  lady  fortified  with  a  handbag  ap- 
peared and  surveyed  the  scene  of  confusion  with  dis- 
may. 

"Eighteen,  see  what  that  lady  wants,"  said  Miss 
Boardman  as  she  hurried  by. 

"What  is  it,  please,  that  I  can  show  you?"  asked 
Grace,  feeling  her  heart  thump  as  she  realized  that  she 
had  accosted  her  first  customer.  She  smiled  encourag- 
ingly and  the  old  lady  returned  the  smile. 

"I  want  two  suits — a  gray  and  a  blue,  cut  as  nearly 
like  this  thing  I  have  on  as  possible.  I've  written 
my  exact  measurements  on  this  card,  so  don't  jump 
at  me  with  a  tape-line.  And  I  want  a  plain  long 
coat  for  rough  weather — something  serviceable  and 
unfashionable.  You  look  like  an  intelligent  girl,  so 
I  don't  expect  you  to  show  me  anything  in  red  or  green. 
And  don't  tell  me  what  they're  wearing  in  Paris,  Lon- 
don or  New  York — ,  as  though  7  cared!  I  pay  cash, 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  33 

so  there'll  be  no  time  lost  in  looking  up  my  credit 
card." 

Grace  placed  a  chair  for  her  singular  customer,  took 
hurried  counsel  of  Irene  and  was  soon  in  the  throes  of 
her  first  sale.  The  little  old  lady  asked  few  questions 
but  her  inquiries  were  much  to  the  point. 

"Show  me  only  good  quality,"  she  said,  tossing  aside 
a  skirt  after  asking  its  price.  "You  know  perfectly 
well  it  can't  be  wool  for  that  money,  and  the  color, 
will  run  the  first  time  it  gets  rained  on." 

"This,"  began  Grace,  "is  genuine  home-spun,  hand- 
wove " 

"That's  better.  This  will  do  for  the  blue.  Find 
a  gray  of  similar  style." 

The  gray  was  more  difficult  than  the  blue.  She 
hadn't  wanted  a  mixed  weave  but  a  plain  gray,  which 
was  not  in  stock.  Grace  warmed  to  her  work,  prais- 
ing the  quality  of  a  gray  with  a  misty  heather  mix- 
ture. Holding  the  coat  at  arm's  length  and  becoming 
eloquent  as  to  the  fine  quality  of  the  garment,  Grace 
turned  to  find  the  customer  regarding  her  with  a  whim- 
sical smile. 

"My  dear  child,  you  do  that  very  well.  How  long 
have  you  been  here?"  she  demanded. 

Grace  colored.  "This  is  my  first  day,"  she  con- 
fessed. The  old  lady  seemed  greatly  amused  at  her 
discomfiture.  Her  alert  eyes  brightened  behind  her 
glasses. 

"Am  I  your  first  customer?  Well,  you're  going 
to  get  on.  You've  made  me  change  my  mind  and  not 
many  people  ever  do  that.  That  heather  tone  really 
pleases  me  better  than  the  plain  smooth  cloth  I  had  in 
mind  and  I'll  take  it." 

The  customer  explained  that  she  walked  in  all  weath- 
ers, and  wanted  warmth,  not  style,  in  the  topcoat  with 


34  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

loose  sleeves  which  she  described  succinctly.  Grace 
produced  half  a  dozen  such  coats,  one  of  which  her 
customer  chose  immediately.  She  slipped  it  on,  said 
the  sleeves  were  too  short,  and  Irene  passing  along 
opportunely  said  that  nothing  could  be  easier  than 
to  let  out  the  sleeve  the  required  two  inches. 

"Be  sure  she's  perfectly  satisfied  before  she  leaves," 
whispered  Irene.  "She  looks  like  real  money." 

The  old  lady  who  looked  like  real  money  was  watch- 
ing attentively  an  evening  gown  whch  was  being  dis- 
played before  a  smartly-dressed  young  woman  on  the 
further  side  of  the  room.  She  drew  out  a  memoran- 
dum book  and  turned  over  the  leaves. 

"I'll  wait  a  moment  to  see  whether  that  woman  over 
there  buys  that  gown.  You  might  find  out  the  meas- 
urements, if  it  will  do  for  a  thirty-six  I'll  take  it  for  a 
niece  of  mine  in  Evansville.  She's  very  fond  of  that 
rose  color." 

The  rose  colored  gown  was  rejected  a  moment  later 
by  the  lady  who  had  been  considering  it  and  Grace 
laid  it  before  her  customer. 

"My  niece  is  just  about  your  height  and  build,  and 
has  your  coloring.  I'd  like  to  see  that  on  you!" 

Grace  asked  the  nearest  clerk  whether  there  was  any 
objection  to  meeting  this  unlocked  for  request.  Cer- 
tainly not,  though  there  was  a  model  for  such  pur- 
poses. The  old  lady  who  looked  like  real  money  didn't 
care  to  see  the  model  in  the  gown  and  frankly  said  so. 
She  expressed  her  gratification  when  Grace  paraded 
before  her  in  the  gray  and  ivory  fitting  room.  The 
price  was  three  hundred  dollars. 

"Thank  you,  I'll  take  it." 

Grace  got  out  of  the  gown  as  quickly  as  possible, 
and  presented  the  garments  already  chosen  for  final 
approval.  The  old  lady  who  looked  like  real  money 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  35 

produced  from  her  satchel  a  checkbook  and  a  fountain 
pen. 

The  total  was  six  hundred  and  ninety  dollars.  Grace 
regarded  the  bit  of  paper  with  awe;  it  was  the  largest 
check  she  had  ever  seen.  The  customer  wrote  out 
the  shipping  directions  for  her  niece's  gown,  screwed 
the  cap  on  her  pen,  took  the  cash  sale  slip  Grace 
gave  her  and  tucked  it  carefully  away. 

"You've  been  very  nice  to  me.  Thank  you  very 
much."  She  smilingly  extended  her  hand.  "Let  this 
be  a  little  secret  between  us!" 

The  secret  was  a  ten  dollar  bill.  The  little  old 
lady  who  really  didn't  look  like  real  money  was  already 
in  the  elevator  and  Grace  turned  with  relief  to  Irene, 
who  inspected  the  office  end  of  the  cash-sale  slip,  and 
read  aloud  the  signature  on  the  check. 

"Beulah  Reynolds — you  certainly  drew  a  prize!  I 
never  saw  her  before  but  you've  heard  of  her.  She 
belongs  to  the  old  Hoosier  nobility.  Her  people  landed 
before  the  Indians  left.  She's  lived  all  over  the  world 
and  has  just  come  back  here  and  bought  a  house  on 
Washington  Boulevard.  I  read  a  piece  about  her  in 
the  paper.  If  she  tipped  you  ten  dollars  it's  a  good 
sign.  Don't  you  be  squeamish  about  taking  tips — it's 
all  perfectly  right  and  it  won't  happen  often.  Don't 
let  your  good  luck  turn  your  head;  there's  a  lady 
coming  now  who  looks  as  though  she  lived  on  lemons. 
Pass  the  sugar  and  see  what  you  can  do  with  her." 

II 

Mrs.  Durland  was  greatly  distressed  that  a  daughter 
of  hers  should  have  met  Miss  Beulah  Reynolds  in  what 
she  was  pleased  to  term  a  servile  capacity.  Miss  Rey- 
nolds was  a  personage,  she  said — a  Colonial  Dame, 


36  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

a  D.  A.  R.  and  everything  else  that  implied  noble 
American  ancestry.  Mrs.  Durland  had  met  her  at  a 
tea,  which  she  described  with  minute  detail.  It  was 
in  Harrison's  administration,  she  thought,  though  it 
might  have  been  in  the  second  consulship  of  Cleveland. 
That  a  lady  so  distinguished  and  wealthy  should  have 
given  Grace  ten  dollars  quite  as  though  she  were  a 
waitress  was  humiliating.  Miss  Reynolds  would  never 
have  thought  of  tipping  the  daughter  of  Alicia  Morley 
Durland. 

"I'm  number  Eighteen  to  all  the  world  when  I'm 
at  Shipley's,"  Grace  replied  good-naturedly.  "If  I'd 
told  her  in  a  burst  of  confidence  that  I  was  your  daugh- 
ter she  probably  wouldn't  have  given  me  the  ten  which 
I  sorely  need.  She  was  nice  as  possible  and  I  didn't 
see  anything  wrong  in  taking  her  money." 

"Well,  of  course  she  meant  to  be  kind,  dear;  but  it 
hurts  me  just  a  little." 

Thanks  to  Mrs.  Reynolds'  generous  purchases, 
Grace's  envelope  for  the  first  week  contained  $35.21. 
Though  warned  by  Irene  that  this  was  beginner's 
luck  she  was  satisfied  that  she  could  master  the  selling 
art  and  earn  a  good  income. 

"You've  got  the  gift,  my  dear.  You'll  build  up  a 
line  of  regular  customers,"  Irene  expatiated,  "who'll  al- 
ways ask  for  you,  and  that's  what  counts.  I  notice 
that  a  good  many  customers  already  pick  you  out 
and  refuse  to  be  steered  to  the  other  girls  at  your  end 
of  the  room.  All  due  to  your  beaux  yeux,  as  we  say 
in  Paris,  and  general  air  of  being  somebody  in  par- 
ticular." 

Grace  quickly  made  friends  in  the  store,  both  in 
and  out  of  her  own  department.  Two  members  of 
her  sorority,  who  like  herself  had  been  obliged  to  leave 
college  before  finishing,  sought  her  out;  an  alumna  of 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  37 

the  state  university,  a  woman  of  thirty,  who  was 
employed  in  the  office  as  auditor,  took  her  to  lunch; 
a  charming  English  woman,  stranded  in  America  and 
plying  her  needle  in  the  alteration  room,  brought  her 
books  to  read.  Miss  Vail  at  the  glove  counter  knew 
all  there  was  to  know  about  palmistry,  table-tipping 
and  automatic  writing  and  aroused  Grace's  curiosity 
as  to  the  mysteries  of  the  ouija  board. 

To  break  the  monotony  of  her  evenings,  Grace  asked 
Miss  Vail  and  two  other  girls  from  the  store  to  the 
house  for  some  experiments.  She  had  not  announced 
in  advance  that  the  purpose  of  the  meeting  was  to 
probe  into  the  unknown,  and  had  counted  on  Ethel's 
assistance  in  entertaining  her  friends;  but  when  the 
ouija  board  was  produced  Ethel  expressed  a  chilling 
disapproval  of  ouija  and  everything  else  pertaining  to 
the  occult.  Mrs.  Durland,  anxious  to  promote  har- 
mony, suggested  that  they  read  aloud  an  article  in  a 
late  magazine  that  explained  ouija  writing  and  simi- 
lar phenomena.  Of  course  Grace  and  her  friends  did 
not  want  scientific  explanations  of  ouija;  they  wanted 
to  see  the  thing  work. 

"Much  unhappiness  may  be  caused  by  such  things," 
said  Mrs.  Durland;  "and  of  course  they  mean  noth- 
ing." 

"I've  always  felt,"  remarked  Ethel,  "that  there's 
something  just  a  little  vulgar  about  it." 

"Oh,  piffle!"  exclaimed  Grace  impatiently.  "We 
all  know  it's  a  joke;  we  just  wanted  to  have  a  little 
fun  out  of  it." 

"Don't  bother,  Grace,"  said  Miss  Vail.  "We'll  just 
forget  about  it." 

Stephen  Durland,  who  had  changed  his  clothes  in 
honor  of  Grace's  party,  broke  his  silence  to  say: 

"I  don't  see  any  harm  in  those  things.     They're 


38  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

all  explained  on  scientific  grounds.  I  think  it  would 
be  interesting  to  watch  it  work." 

"It  probably  wouldn't  work  in  such  an  atmosphere," 
said  Grace,  thoroughly  irritated. 

"Suppose,"  said  Mrs.  Durland  with  sudden  inspira- 
tion, "you  girls  make  fudge!  I'll  get  the  things  ready. 
I  never  saw  a  girl  yet  who  didn't  like  fudge." 

Something  had  to  be  done  to  amuse  the  guests 
and  Grace  assented.  Ethel,  however,  did  not  partici- 
pate in  the  fudge  making,  but  took  herself  off  to  bed. 
Grace  resolved  never  again  to  ask  any  one  to  the  house. 
She  said  as  much  to  Ethel  the  next  morning. 

"You  seem  to  forget  that  I  pay  my  board  here  and 
help  with  the  housework,  too.  I  ought  to  have  a  few 
privileges.  Those  are  as  nice  girls  as  I  ever  knew  and 
you  and  mother  drove  us  into  the  kitchen  as  though 
we  were  a  lot  of  silly  children.  You're  certainly  the 
queen  of  the  kill-joys." 

"I  should  think,"  said  Ethel,  regarding  her  sister 
pityingly,  "that  with  your  education  you'd  be  above 
putting  yourself  on  the  level  with  the  cheap  people 
who  patronize  fortune-tellers.  People  who  really  have 
faith  that  there's  a  life  to  come  don't  need  such  things. 
They  have  no  place  in  a  Christian  home." 

Grace  stared  at  her  helplessly.  Ethel  was  an 
enigma;  it  was  incredible  that  any  one  could  feel  so 
intensely  about  so  small  a  matter,  or  find  so  complete 
a  joy  in  making  others  uncomfortable. 


CHAPTER  THREE 


MRS.  DURLAND,  no  doubt  to  show  her  sympathetic 
interest  in  her  daughters'  labors,  asked  innumerable 
questions  every  evening  when  the  family  gathered  at 
the  supper  table.  As  Ethel's  experiences  were  much 
less  interesting  than  Grace's,  the  burden  of  these  con- 
versations fell  largely  upon  Grace.  Whenever  Grace 
mentioned  some  customer  her  mother  or  Ethel  knew  or 
knew  about,  that  person  was  subjected  to  the  most 
searching  analysis.  It  was  incredible  that  they  could 
be  so  interested  in  people  of  whom  they  knew  only 
from  reading  of  their  social  activities  in  the  news- 
papers. 

Ethel's  preoccupations  with  her  church  and  philan- 
thropic affairs  took  her  away  several  evenings  in  the 
week,  and  at  such  times  Grace  played  checkers  or  sniff 
with  her  father  while  Mrs.  Durland  read  or  sewed. 
The  fact  that  Grace's  earnings  averaged  higher  than 
Ethel's  made  it  necessary  for  Mrs.  Durland  to  soothe 
any  feeling  the  older  daughter  manifested  as  to  this 
disparity. 

Grace  found  no  joy  in  Ethel.  Ethel  hinted  con- 
stantly that  her  work  in  Gregg  and  Burley's  office 
placed  her  in  a  class  much  above  that  of  a  salesgirl. 
She  had  brought  to  perfection  a  kind  of  cloying  sweet- 
ness in  her  attitude  toward  the  other  members  of  the 
family  which  Grace  found  hard  to  bear.  Ethel  was  at 
pains  to  remind  her  father  from  time  to  time  that  it 
was  due  to  his  lack  of  foresight  and  initiative  that  she 
had  been  obliged  to  become  a  wage  earner.  Her  re- 

39 


40  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

marks  expressed  something  of  the  solicitude  a  mother 
might  manifest  toward  a  slightly  deficient  child.  The 
effect  of  this  upon  Grace  was  to  deepen  her  affection 
and  sympathy  for  her  father.  Several  times  she  per- 
suaded him  to  go  down  town  with  her  to  a  big  motion 
picture  house  where  there  was  good  music.  He  en- 
joyed the  pictures,  laughing  heartily  at  the  comics; 
and  laughter  had  been  the  rarest  of  luxuries  in  Stephen 
Durland's  life.  Mrs.  Durland  refused  to  accompany 
them;  all  the  pictures  she  had  ever  seen  had  been  vul- 
gar and  she  was  on  a  committee  of  the  State  Federa- 
tion to  go  before  the  legislature  and  demand  a  more 
rigid  censorship. 

Grace's  announcement  that,  on  evenings  when  she 
went  to  the  French  class  she  had  entered  with  Irene, 
she  would  stay  down  town  for  supper  did  not  pass 
unchallenged  at  the  supper  table,  which  she  had  be- 
gun to  dread  for  its  cheerlessness  and  the  opportunity 
it  afforded  her  mother  and  sister  to  express  their  dire 
forebodings  as  to  the  future  of  the  human  race.  One 
evening  after  listening  to  a  reiteration  of  their  predic- 
tions of  calamity  Grace  broke  the  silence  in  which 
she  usually  listened  to  these  discussions. 

"I  don't  know  where  you  get  these  ideas,  Ethel. 
You  must  be  unfortunate  in  your  acquaintances  if 
you're  talking  from  your  own  knowledge." 

Mrs.  Durland  rallied  at  once  to  Ethel's  support. 

"Now,  Grace,  you  know  Ethel  is  older  and  views 
everything  much  more  soberly  than  you  do.  You 
know  she's  in  touch  with  all  these  agencies  that  are 
trying  to  protect  the  young  from  the  evils  of  a  grow- 
ing city." 

"Just  what  evils?"  Grace  demanded. 

"There  are  some  things,"  said  Ethel  impressively, 
"that  it's  better  not  to  talk  about." 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  41 

"That's  always  the  way!"  Grace  flared.  "You're 
always  insinuating  that  the  world's  going  to  the  devil 
but  you  never  say  just  how.  I  know  perfectly  well 
what  you're  driving  at.  You  think  because  I  work 
in  a  department  store  I  can't  be  as  good  as  you  are  I, 
I'll  tell  you  right  now  that  the  girls  I  know  in  Shipley's 
are  just  as  good  as  any  girls  in  town — perfectly  splen- 
did hard-working  girls.  And  one  other  thing  I  can 
tell  you,  they  don't  spend  their  time  sneering  at  every- 
body else.  I'd  rather  be  the  worst  sinner  in  creation 
than  so  pure  I  couldn't  see  a  little  good  in  other 
people." 

"Please,  Grace!"  Mrs.  Durland  pleaded.  "You're 
unreasonable.  No  one  was  saying  anything  about 
you  or  any  other  girl  in  Shipley's." 

"Oh,  Ethel  doesn't  have  to  say  it  straight  out!  I'm 
not  so  stupid!  Every  time  she  takes  that  sanctified 
air  she's  preaching  at  me.  I  don't  pretend  to  be  an 
angel  but  I'm  tired  of  hearing  how  wicked  everybody 
is.  I  don't  dare  ask  any  of  the  girls  I  work  with  to 
the  house;  you  think  they're  all  rotten." 

"I  don't  think  they're  all  bad,  and  I've  never  said 
such  a  thing,"  Ethel  declared,  "But  I  have  said  that 
Irene  Kirby  is  not  the  type  of  girl  I'd  deliberately 
choose  to  be  my  sister's  most  intimate  friend,  and 
I  say  it  again." 

"Now,  Ethel,  you  girls  mustn't  hurt  each  other's 
feelings!  If  you  must  quarrel  please  don't  do  it  be- 
fore your  father  and  me." 

This  consideration  for  her  father's  feelings  was  so 
unusual  that  Grace  laughed.  Durland  had  been  twist- 
ing uneasily  in  his  chair.  His  sympathies  were  wholly 
with  Grace.  Ethel's  indirect  method  of  criticizing  her 
younger  sister  enraged  him,  and  in  this  particular  in- 
stance he  was  secretly  pleased  that  Grace  was  strik- 


42  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

ing  back.  He  glanced  about  the  table,  cleared  his 
throat  and  asked  in  his  mild  tone  for  a  second  cup 
of  coffee. 

"I  hardly  know  Irene  Kirby,"  said  Ethel,  "but  I 
have  heard  some  things  about  her  I  hate  to  hear  about 
any  girl." 

"Such  as  what?  Tell  me  just  what  you've  heard," 
said  Grace,  sharply. 

"Well,  if  you  insist"  replied  Ethel,  with  affected 
reluctance,  "she's  keeping  company  with  a  married 
man.  It's  been  going  on  for  some  time.  They  were 
seen  together  last  Sunday  night,  quite  late,  driving 
into  town.  Suppose  you  ask  Irene  where  she  was 
last  Sunday." 

"What's  the  man's  name?"  Grace  demanded. 

"Oh,  I  needn't  mention  his  name!  You  ask  Irene 
to  tell  you.  A  girl  friend  of  mine  who  used  to  work 
in  his  office  saw  them." 

"I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it,"  said  Grace.  "You  or 
I  or  any  other  girl  might  be  seen  driving  with  a  mar- 
ried man  without  there  being  anything  wicked  about 
it." 

"Well,  you  asked  me  and  I  told  you,"  returned 
Ethel  complacently.  "It's  not  a  new  story.  I  knew  it 
when  I  tried  to  persuade  you  not  to  go  into  Shipley's, 
but  I  thought  I  wouldn't  tell  you  why  I  thought  it 
best  for  you  to  keep  away  from  Irene." 

"Irene  has  been  fine  to  me,"  said  Grace  quickly; 
"she's  one  of  the  nicest  and  one  of  the  most  intel- 
ligent girls  I  ever  knew.  I  think  it  poor  business 
for  a  girl  like  you,  who  pretends  to  be  a  Christian,  to 
listen  to  scandalous  stories  about  some  one  you  hardly 
know.  I'll  say  for  Irene  that  I  never  heard  her  speak 
an  unkind  word  of  any  one.  Every  day  she  does  a 
lot  of  little  kindnesses  for  people  and  she  doesn't 
strut  around  about  it  either." 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  43 

"I  don't  question  that  you  believe  all  that,  Grace," 
remarked  Mrs.  Durland  as  she  served  the  rice  pud- 
ding that  was  the  regular  dessert  for  Thursday  eve- 
ning. "But  you  know  Ethel  is  very  careful  what 
she  says  about  every  one." 

"Yes,  I've  noticed  that,"  said  Grace  coldly. 

Durland  had  eaten  his  pudding  and  was  stolidly 
slipping  his  napkin  into  its  ring.  The  better  course 
might  be  to  follow  his  example.  Silence,  Grace  re- 
flected, offered  the  surest  refuge  from  family  bicker- 
ing. She  saw  the  years  stretching  on  endlessly,  with 
her  work-day  followed  by  evenings  of  discord  in  the 
cheerless  home  circle.  The  prospect  was  not  hearten- 
ing. It  was  two  against  two,  and  her  father  was  only 
passively  an  ally.  When  Roy  came  home  he  would 
be  pretty  sure  to  align  himself  with  his  mother  and 
Ethel,  in  keeping  with  his  general  policy  of  taking 
the  easier  and  more  comfortable  way  in  everything. 
It  flashed  through  her  mind  that  she  might  leave 
home  and  take  a  room  somewhere  or  join  with  two 
or  three  girls  and  rent  an  apartment.  But  her  parents 
needed  her  help.  She  knew  that  her  father  was  wholly 
unlikely  to  assist  materially  with  the  household  ex- 
penses. Ethel  had  not  demurred  when  she  volunteered 
to  contribute  in  ratio  to  her  earnings,  which  made 
her  share  at  least  a  third  more  each  week  than  Ethel's. 

II 

Ethel's  intimations  that  Irene  Kirby  was  not  as 
good  as  she  ought  to  be  so  exasperated  Grace  that  in 
a  spirit  of  contrariness  she  hoped  they  were  true.  At 
least  she  didn't  care  whether  they  were  true  or  not. 
She  knew  little  of  Irene's  family  but  the  bitterness 
engendered  by  her  own  home  life  made  it  seem  a 
natural  and  pardonable  thing  for  a  girl  who  worked 


44  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

hard  and  was  obliged  to  live  in  an  atmosphere  of 
perpetual  criticism  to  take  her  pleasure  where  she 
pleased.  Her  curiosity  as  to  Irene's  social  contacts 
was  greatly  aroused.  Irene,  outwardly  at  least  the 
most  circumspect  of  young  women,  certainly  had  mas- 
tered the  art  of  keeping  her  private  affairs  to  her- 
self. Now  and  then  she  spoke  of  having  gone  to  the 
theatre  or  to  a  dance  with  some  young  man  whose 
name  she  always  mentioned;  but  when  Grace  tried  to 
tease  her  about  her  suitors  Irene  dismissed  them  dis- 
dainfully. They  were  impossible,  she  said,  in  her 
large  manner — bank  clerks,  traveling  salesmen  or 
young  fellows  just  starting  in  small  businesses.  She 
wasn't  at  all  interested  in  marrying  a  young  man  with 
his  way  to  make,  cooking  for  him  in  the  kitchenette 
of  a  four-room  apartment,  with  a  movie  once  a  week 
as  the  reward  for  faithful  service. 

These  views  on  matrimony  were  revealed  one  day 
early  in  November  when  they  were  lunching  together 
in  Shipley's  tea  room.  She  went  on  to  say  that  she 
would  wait  a  few  years  in  the  hope  of  meeting  some 
man  of  importance  who  could  give  her  a  position  in 
life  worth  while. 

"It  has  been  done  before,  my  dear.  It  may  not 
sound  romantic  but  it's  the  only  way  to  play  safe.  I 
want  to  get  away  from  this  town!  It  smothers  and 
chokes  me.  The  firm  has  sent  me  to  New  York  twice 
this  last  year,  and  I  think  I  could  get  along  very  well 
down  there  if  I  had  money  to  spend.  I've  beeij  a 
little  afraid  you'd  engaged  yourself  to  some  strug- 
gling young  professor  at  the  university.  No?  Well, 
I'd  hate  to  see  you  wasting  yourself.  You've  got 
brains  and  good  looks  and  I  hope  you  won't  throw 
yourself  away.  By  the  way — just  what  do  you  do 
with  yourself  evenings?" 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  45 

"Oh,  I  stay  at  home,  mostly.  I  do  a  turn  in  the 
kitchen,  play  a  game  of  checkers  with  father  and  go 
to  bed  to  read." 

"Wholesome  but  not  exciting!  I'd  imagined  you 
had  a  few  suitors  who  dropped  in  occasionally." 

"Haven't  had  a  caller  since  I  came  home,"  said 
Grace.  "The  beaux  I  had  last  summer  don't  know  I'm 
home  and  I  haven't  felt  like  stirring  them  up." 

Irene  was  wearing  a  handsome  emerald  ring  that 
Grace  had  not  noticed  before.  In  keeping  with  the 
tone  of  subdued  elegance  she  affected,  Irene  never 
wore  jewelry;  the  ring  was  a  departure  and  required 
an  explanation  for  which  Grace  hesitated  to  ask.  In 
spite  of  their  long  acquaintance  Grace  never  overcame 
her  feeling  of  humility  before  Irene's  large  view  of 
things,  her  lofty  disdain  for  small  change.  Grace 
knew  more  out  of  books  than  Irene;  but  in  her 
cogitations  she  realized  that  beyond  question  Irene 
knew  much  more  of  life.  Aware  of  Grace's  frequent 
glances  at  the  emerald,  Irene  held  up  her  hand. 

"Rather  pretty,  isn't  it?"  she  asked  carelessly. 
"That  cost  some  real  money.  A  little  gift  from  a 
man  who  is  foolish  enough  to  admire  me." 

"It's  perfectly  beautiful,"  said  Grace  as  Irene 
spread  her  fingers  on  the  table.  "It's  the  very  newest 
setting  and  a  wonderful  stone.  I  don't  believe  I  ever 
saw  you  wear  a  ring  before." 

"It's  the  first  I've  worn  in  years;  but  this  is  too 
good  to  hide."  She  looked  at  the  stone  absently.  "By 
the  way,  Grace,  you  don't  seem  to  be  burdened  with 
engagements.  I  wonder  if  you'd  care  to  drive  into 
the  country  tomorrow  evening  for  dinner — a  little 
party  of  four.  My  friend — the  man  who  gave  me 
this," — she  held  up  her  hand, — "has  a  guest,  a  most 
interesting  man  you'd  be  sure  to  like.  If  you  haven't 


46  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

anything  better  to  do  it  might  amuse  you  to  meet 
him.  A  party  of  three  is  a  little  awkward  and  you'd 
balance  things  beautifully." 

Grace's  heart  quickened  to  find  herself  at  last  ad- 
mitted to  Irene's  confidence,  a  thing  flattering  in  itself. 
Ethel's  charge  that  Irene  was  accepting  the  attentions 
of  a  married  man  was  probably  true,  or  the  girl  would 
have  approached  the  matter  differently.  It  dawned 
upon  Grace  that  the  word  party  had  a  meaning 
previously  unknown  to  her,  signifying  a  social  event 
clandestine  in  character,  in  which  the  wives  of  married 
men  were  not  participants.  The  idea  was  novel  and 
it  caused  Grace's  wits  to  range  over  a  wide  field  of 
speculation. 

"I  suppose  men  do  sometimes  take  their  wives  on 
parties  that  are  a  little  different — just  a  quiet  little 
kick-up?"  she  ventured. 

"Not  so  you'd  exactly  notice  it,"  Irene  answered, 
with  a  shrug  and  a  smile  of  indulgence  at  Grace's 
innocence.  "A  wife  knows  her  husband  and  all  his 
jokes;  why  should  she  meet  him  socially!" 

"Tomorrow  night's  our  French  class,"  said  Grace, 
recovering  herself  quickly.  "We'd  have  to  cut  it." 

"Oh,  I  hadn't  forgotten  that.  To  be  frank  about  it, 
I  thought  that  would  make  it  easier  for  you  to  get 
away.  I  don't  know  just  how  your  folks  at  home 
are — whether  they  always  check  you  up  as  to  where 
you  go.  As  you've  been  staying  down  town  on  lesson 
nights  that  would  help  you  put  it  over.  I  suggested 
Friday  night  to  my  friend  instead  of  Saturday,  hoping 
to  make  sure  of  you.  There  are  plenty  of  girls  who'll 
go  on  parties  but  this  is  a  case  where  just  any  girl 
won't  do.  You'll  fit  in  perfectly  and  I  hope  you'll 

go." 

"Thanks,    ever   so   much,   Irene;    of   course,   I'm 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  47 

pleased  to  death  to  go,"  said  Grace.  "But,  you'll 
have  to  tell  me  what  to  wear;  my  wardrobe's  rather 
limited." 

"Oh,  the  occasion  doesn't  call  for  magnificence. 
Dinner's  to  be  in  a  charming  old  house  about  fourteen 
miles  from  town.  I'm  going  to  wear  the  simplest 
thing  I  have." 

"It's  awfully  nice  of  you  to  ask  me,"  said  Grace, 
her  eyes  dancing  at  the  prospect.  "But  if  I  mustn't 
mention  the  party  at  home,  I'll  have  to  get  in  early  so 
mother  and  Ethel  won't  suspect  anything." 

"Let  them  suspect,  honey!  My  family  used  to  try 
to  check  me  up  every  time  I  went  to  the  corner  to 
mail  a  postal;  but  they've  got  over  it.  By  the  way, 
I  think  that  sister  of  yours  doesn't  like  me.  I  passed 
her  in  the  street  yesterday  and  she  gave  me  what  I 
shouldn't  call  a  loving  look." 

"She  didn't  mean  anything,"  said  Grace.  "It's  just 
that  Ethel  takes  herself  a  little  bit  too  seriously.  She 
has  all  the  old-fashioned  ideas  about  things." 

"She's  got  the  uplift  idea  and  all  that  sort  of  stuff. 
I  met  her  in  the  office  one  day  looking  up  a  girl  who 
had  dropped  out  of  her  church  club  or  something. 
That's  all  fine  work;  I'm  not  sneering  at  it;  but  people 
who  go  in  for  that  kind  of  thing  ought  to  remember 
we're  not  all  born  with  wings." 

"Oh,  Ethel  means  well,"  said  Grace,  her  mind  upon 
the  proposed  dinner  for  four  in  the  country,  of  which 
she  was  anxious  to  hear  more.  "What  time  do  we 
start?" 

"Seven  o'clock.  You  may  be  sure  I  trust  you  or  I 
shouldn't  be  asking  you  to  go  on  this  party,"  said 
Irene.  "It's  not  a  social  event  for  the  society  col- 
umns—just an  intimate  little  dinner  to  be  forgotten 
when  we  all  say  good  night.  Our  host  is  Mr.  Kemp — 


48  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

Thomas  Ripley  Kemp.  You've  seen  his  factory; 
it's  as  big  as  all  outdoors.  Don't  look  so  scared! 
Tommy's  a  peach!  You  can't  fail  to  like  Tommy." 

"Mr.  Kemp  is — married?"  Grace  ventured  a  little 
timorously. 

"Oh,  Tommy's  been  married  for  centuries!  His 
wife's  one  of  Shipley's  best  customers.  She's  awfully 
nice;  I  tell  Tommy  he  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  him- 
self! Tommy's  not  stingy  with  his  family,  and  he's 
terribly  proud  of  them.  He  has  a  daughter  in  an 
Eastern  college — a  stunning  girl.  Elaine  is  just  about 
my  age, — isn't  it  weird!" 

"I  think  I  never  saw  Mr.  Kemp,  but  of  course  I've 
heard  of  him,"  remarked  Grace,  bewildered  by  the 
familiar  tone  in  which  Irene  spoke  of  Kemp  and  his 
family.  "The  other  man — what's  he  like?"  she  asked 
with  feigned  carelessness. 

"Oh,  his  name's  Ward  Trenton  and  he  lives  in  Pitts- 
burgh and  is  a  consulting  engineer  and  a  way-upper  all 
right.  Tommy  thinks  the  sun  rises  and  sets  in  Ward. 
Ward  drops  in  here  every  month  or  two  and  Tommy 
always  throws  him  a  party,  sometimes  at  home  or  at 
one  of  the  clubs;  and  when  that's  the  ticket  he 
naturally  forgets  to  invite  me!  Screaming,  isn't  it? 
Ward  isn't  really  a  sport  like  Tommy,  but  he'll  go  on 
a  party  and  keep  amused  in  his  own  peculiar  way. 
He  does  a  lot  of  thinking,  that  man.  You'll  under- 
stand when  you  meet  him.  I'm  never  sure  whether 
Ward  approves  of  me,  but  he's  always  nice." 

"He  may  not  like  me  at  all,"  said  Grace. 

"Don't  be  foolish!  You're  just  the  kind  of  girl  men 
of  that  sort  like.  They're  bored  to  death  by  girls — 
you  know  the  kind — who  begin  every  sentence  with 
'say'  or  'listen,'  and  would  drop  dead  if  they  ever  had 
an  idea.  Tommy's  the  higher  type  of  business  man," 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  49 

Irene  went  on.  "College  education,  fond  of  music  and 
pictures  and  that  sort  of  thing.  By  the  way,  Tommy 
has  no  particular  love  for  that  Cummings  your  father 
was  in  business  with  so  long.  Make  the  same  line  of 
stuff,  don't  they?  The  Cummingses  are  going  strong 
since  they  moved  up  among  the  swells  and  it  annoys 
Tommy  a  good  deal.  You  know  his  folks  landed  here 
in  1820  and  he's  full  of  old  family  pride.  He's  per- 
fectly screaming  about  it!" 

"And  Mr.  Trenton — "  Grace  ventured,  "is  he  mar- 
ried too?" 

"All  the  nice  men  are  more  or  less  married,  my 
dear!  Ward  is  and  he  isn't.  Tommy's  never  seen 
Mrs.  Trenton,  but  there  is  such  a  person.  Ward 
speaks  of  his  wife  in  the  friendliest  sort  of  way,  but 
they  don't  meet  often,  I  imagine." 

When  Grace  recurred  to  the  matter  of  changing 
her  clothes  for  the  party,  Irene's  resourcefulness 
promptly  asserted  itself. 

"There's  a  very  chic  suit  in  stock,  marked  down 
from  eighty-seven  to  forty-two  on  account  of  an  im- 
perfection in  the  embroidery  on  the  cuffs.  It  will  do 
wonderfully  and  if  you  haven't  the  money  handy  I'll 
take  care  of  it  till  you  strike  a  fat  week.  We'll  try  it 
on  you  this  afternoon  and  if  you  like  it  we'll  send  it  up 
to  Minnie  Lawton's  apartment  and  you  can  change 
there.  I'll  be  doing  the  same — fact  is,  I  keep  a  few 
duds  at  Minnie's  for  just  such  emergencies.  Minnie's 
a  good  scout  and  attends  strictly  to  her  own  business." 

The  Minnie  Lawton  Irene  referred  to  held  a  re- 
sponsible position  with  a  jobbing  house.  Grace  had 
met  her  at  lunch  with  Irene  several  times  and  had 
found  her  a  diverting  person. 

"Minnie's  a  broadminded  woman,"  Irene  remarked. 
"I  usually  meet  Tommy  at  Minnie's  when  we're  going 


50  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

on  a  party,  and  that's  the  schedule  for  tomorrow 
evening.  I'll  call  Tommy  now  and  tell  him  every- 
thing's set." 

The  suit  proved  to  be  all  that  Irene  had  promised. 
Grace  was  not  unaware  that  the  attendants  were  ob- 
serving her  with  frankly  approving  eyes. 

"It  certainly  sets  you  off,  Eighteen.  That  shade  of 
Oriental  blue  is  just  right  for  you,"  said  one  girl. 

"An  inch  off  the  sleeve  will  help;  the  collar  pinches 
the  least  bit — or  does  it?"  remarked  Irene  to  the 
hovering  fitter.  "All  right  then;  thank  you." 

Grace  asked  for  an  extra  hour  at  noon  the  next  day 
for  a  hair-washing,  marcelling  and  manicuring,  saying 
to  Miss  Boardman  that  she  had  an  engagement  with 
the  dentist.  Irene  had  suggested  this,  explaining  that 
it  wasn't  lying  as  all  the  girls  gave  the  same  reason 
when  asking  extra  time  for  any  purpose,  and  Miss 
Boardman  wasn't  deceived  by  it. 

Beyond  a  few  experiments  in  her  youth  for  which 
she  was  promptly  punished,  Grace  had  rarely  resorted 
to  deception;  but  manifestly  she  would  be  obliged  to 
harden  herself  to  the  practice  if  she  yielded  to  the 
temptation  to  broaden  her  experiences  beyond  th*e 
knowledge  of  the  home  circle.  She  tried  to  think  of 
all  the  calamities  that  might  befall  her.  Her  father 
or  mother  might  become  ill  suddenly;  an  attempt 
might  be  made  to  reach  her  at  the  rooms  of  the  French 
instructor;  but  instead  of  being  dismayed  by  the  pos- 
sibility Grace  decided  that  it  would  be  easy  enough  to 
explain  that  she  had  gone  unexpectedly  to  the  house 
of  some  friends  of  Irene  who  lived  in  the  country. 
She  was  sure  she  could  make  a  plausible  story  of  this; 
and  besides,  if  any  one  became  so  ill  as  to  cause  search 
to  be  made  for  her  the  fact  that  she  hadn't  gone  to 
the  French  lesson  would  be  overlooked.  There  might 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  51 

be  an  automobile  accident;  the  thought  was  disturb- 
ing but  it  troubled  Grace  only  passingly. 

"You'll  soon  learn  to  be  ready  with  an  alibi  if  you 
get  caught,"  said  Irene.  "But  the  more  independence 
you  show  the  less  you'll  be  bothered." 

Lively  expectations  of  a  novel  experience  that  prom- 
ised amusement  outweighed  Grace's  scruples  before 
the  closing  hour  of  the  appointed  day.  She  and  Irene 
left  the  store  together  and  found  a  taxi  to  carry  them 
to  Minnie  Lawton's  apartment. 

"We'll  escape  the  trolley  crowd,"  said  Irene  placid- 
ly, "and  save  time.  Minnie's  not  going  home  for  sup- 
per but  I've  got  a  key  to  her  flat  and  we'll  have  the 
place  to  ourselves." 

They  were  dressed  and  waiting  when  Kemp  and 
his  friend  Trenton  arrived.  Assailed  at  the  last 
moment  by  misgivings  as  to  the  whole  adventure, 
Grace  was  relieved  by  her  first  glimpse  of  the  two 
men.  Kemp  was  less  than  her  own  height,  of  slender 
build  and  with  white  hair  that  belied  the  youthful  color 
in  his  cheeks.  The  gray  in  his  neatly  trimmed 
mustache  was  almost  imperceptible.  Grace  had  pic- 
tured him  of  a  size  commensurate  with  his  importance 
as  the  head  of  one  of  the  largest  industries  in  the 
city,  but  he  was  almost  ridiculously  small  and  didn't 
even  remotely  suggest  the  big  masterful  type  she  had 
imagined.  His  face  lighted  pleasantly  as  Irene  in- 
troduced him.  His  power  was  denoted  in  his  firm 
mouth  and  more  particularly  in  his  clear  steady  hazel 
eyes. 

"It's  so  nice  that  you  could  come,"  he  said.  "I've 
known  of  your  family  a  long  time,  of  course,  and 
Irene  brags  about  you  a  great  deal." 

In  marked  contrast  to  Kemp,  Trenton  was  tall  and 
of  athletic  build,  with  gray-blue  eyes,  and  a  smile  that 


52  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

came  a  little  slowly  and  had  in  it  something  wistful 
and  baffling  that  piqued  curiosity  and  invited  a 
second  glance.  Grace  appraised  his  age  at  about  forty. 
She  instantly  decided  that  she  preferred  him  to  Kemp; 
he  was  less  finished  with  nothing  of  Kemp's  dapper- 
ness.  His  careless  way  of  thrusting  his  hands  into  the 
pockets  of  his  coat  pleased  her;  he  was  not  thinking 
of  himself,  not  concerned  as  to  the  impression  he 
made;  slightly  bored  perhaps  by  the  whole  proceed- 
ing. 

Trenton  had  greeted  Irene  cordially  as  an  old 
acquaintance  and  it  was  evident  that  the  three  had 
met  at  other  parties. 

"I'm  starving,"  said  Irene;  "let's  be  moving, 
Tommy." 

"Certainly,"  replied  Kemp.  "I'm  beginning  to  feel 
a  pang  myself." 

A  chauffeur  opened  the  door  of  a  big  limousine  that 
was  waiting  at  the  curb.  They  were  quickly  speeding 
countryward  with  Irene  and  Grace  on  the  back  seat 
with  Trenton  between  them.  Kemp,  on  one  of  the  ad- 
justable chairs,  crossed  his  legs  with  the  easy  non- 
chalance characteristic  of  him. 

"How's  business,  Irene?"  he  asked.  "Are  the  dol- 
lars rolling  into  the  Shipley  till?" 

"My  department  is  running  ahead  of  last  year's 
business,"  said  Irene,  "but  there's  less  call  for  the 
best  grades." 

"So?  Same  reports  all  over  the  country.  We  must 
charge  it  up  to  the  war.  Well,  we  can't  change  busi- 
ness conditions  tonight.  We'll  all  die  bankrupt  if 
things  don't  take  a  brace  and  we  may  as  well  eat  and 
be  merry  while  we  can.  Am  I  right,  Ward?" 

"Certain,  Tommy." 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  53 

"Don't  always  agree  with  me!"  cried  Kemp  with 
feigned  asperity.  "You  have  a  most  disagreeable  way 
of  pretending  to  agree  with  me  when  you  don't." 

"You're  too  good  a  client  for  me  to  quarrel  with. 
And  besides  you're  always  right,  Tommy." 

"Do  stop  spoiling  him!"  cried  Irene.  "Everybody 
spoils  Tommy." 

"Not  youl"  returned  Kemp.  "Your  business  in 
life  seems  to  be  to  keep  me  humble." 

"It  doesn't  show  on  you!  You  don't  see  any  signs 
of  it,  do  you,  Ward?" 

"I  think  he's  aging  fast,"  replied  Trenton.  "He's 
breaking  down  under  the  weight  of  his  own  humility." 

"Find  the  man  who's  giving  the  party!  It's  going 
to  be  a  beautiful  evening  for  me.  Just  one  knock 
after  another!  Grace,  don't  let  these  birds  prejudice 
you  against  me!" 

Kemp  addressed  her  by  her  first  name  quite  as 
though  they  were  old  acquaintances.  They  were  skim- 
ming rapidly  over  the  Meridian  street  bridge  and  her 
diffidence  began  to  pass. 

"I'll  be  your  friend,  Mr.  Kemp,"  she  said.  "You 
needn't  mind  what  the  others  say." 

"That  will  be  all  right;  he  needs  friends;  but  don't 
mister  him.  He's  Tommy  to  one  and  all." 

"  {O  it's  Tommy  this,  an'  Tommy  that,  an' 

"Tommy,  go  away"; 
But  it's  "Thank  you,  Mister  Atkins,"  when 

the  band  begins  to  play'," — 

Kemp  quoted.     "It's  the  same  old  story!"  he  fin- 
ished in  mock  dejection. 

"Speaking  of  music,  did  you  bring  some  new 
records,  Tommy?"  Irene  inquired.  "The  ones  you 
have  at  the  farm  date  from  Rameses." 


54  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

"Yes;  there's  a  package  of  'em  up  in  front,  the  very 
latest  jazz,  and  a  few  classic  pieces  for  my  own  private 
consolation." 

"That's  just  like  him,"  said  Irene.  "Tommy  thinks 
no  one  appreciates  good  music  but  himself." 

Kemp  and  Irene  continued  to  do  most  of  the  talk- 
ing, occasionally  appealing  to  Grace  or  Trenton  to 
support  them  in  their  good-natured  contentions.  For 
a  time  Kemp  and  Trenton  discussed  business  as 
frankly  as  though  they  were  alone.  Grace  began  to 
understand  what  Irene  meant  when  she  spoke  of 
knowing  men  of  attainment  and  enjoying  their  con- 
fidence. Kemp  was  saying  that  he  was  prepared  to 
enlarge  his  plant  the  moment  business  took  an  up- 
ward turn.  He  meant  to  strike  out  more  boldly  into 
the  South  American  markets  than  he  had  ever  done 
before.  His  competitors  didn't  know  it,  and  he  didn't 
want  them  to  know  it,  but  he  already  had  men  down 
there  preparing  for  an  aggressive  campaign.  His  tone 
was  optimistic  and  confident.  It  was  evident  that  he 
paid  great  deference  to  Trenton's  opinions  and  was 
anxious  for  his  approval  of  his  plans.  Once  after 
Trenton  had  answered  at  length  and  with  the  care 
that  seemed  to  be  habitual  with  him  a  technical  ques- 
tion as  to  the  production  by  a  new  method  of  castings 
of  a  certain  kind,  Kemp  turned  and  remarked  to  the 
young  women: 

"That  answer's  worth  money!  It's  a  joy  to  talk  to 
a  man  who  knows  his  stuff." 

"Even  I  could  understand  it!"  said  Grace,  "or  I 
thought  I  did." 

Her  father  sometimes  had  explained  to  her  problems 
in  mechanics  and  Trenton  had  employed  terms  with 
which  she  was  familiar. 

"I'd  rather  expect  you  to  know  something  about 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  55 

such  things,  Grace,"  said  Kemp.  "Your  father  was 
a  pioneer  in  certain  fields.  Stephen  Durland,  you 
know,  Ward, — used  to  be  in  the  Cummings  concern." 

"I  know  the  name  of  course.  I've  run  across  it 
frequently  in  the  patent  office  reports.  Your  father's 
been  a  prolific  inventor." 

"Yes;  he's  always  inventing  something,  but  I'm 
afraid  many  of  his  things  don't  work!" 

"That's  true  of  hundreds,"  said  Kemp,  "but  cer- 
tain of  Stephen  Durland's  inventions  are  still  standard. 
I  know  because  I've  tried  to  cut  under  'em  with  things 
of  my  own!  It  was  a  scoundrelly  trick  for  Cummings 
to  put  him  out  of  the  company — that's  what  I  under- 
stand happened.  You  know  I  believe  every  mean 
thing  I  hear  about  Cummings." 

"Oh,  I  suppose  it  was  strictly  a  business  matter," 
said  Grace. 

"Beastly  ingratitude,  I'd  call  it,"  exclaimed  Kemp. 
"I've  been  told  that  your  father  waived  all  rights  to 
royalty  on  all  the  patents  he  put  into  the  company  and 
Cummings  only  gave  him  a  fifth  of  the  stock  in  the 
original  corporation  to  cover  everything.  Do  pardon 
me!  But  that  whole  business  made  me  hot  when  I 
heard  about  it." 

"It  was  pretty  hard  to  bear,"  Grace  murmured. 

"I'm  no  angel,"  said  Kemp,  "but  in  the  long  run  I 
think  we  get  it  in  the  neck  if  we  don't  play  the  game 
straight.  Cummings  is  riding  for  a  fall.  It  tickles  me 
to  see  two  or  three  places  right  now  where  he's  likely 
to  come  a  cropper.  His  narrowness  and  lack  of  vision 
are  going  to  have  the  usual  result." 

"But  you,  the  great  Kemp,  are  going  to  push  right 
ahead!"  laughed  Trenton,  laying  his  hand  on  his 
friend's  knee. 

"Oh,  nothing  can  keep  Tommy  down,"  exclaimed 


56  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

Irene   in   mock   admiration.     "Tommy's   brain   isn't 
just  cottage  cheese." 

Kemp  enjoyed  their  chaffing  and  encouraged  it. 
They  were  still  discussing  Grace's  suggestion  that 
Mars  and  other  planets  might  become  littered  with 
Kemp  machinery  as  new  markets  were  sought  for  it 
when  they  reached  the  farm. 


Ill 


A  winding  road  led  from  the  highway  through  a  strip 
of  woodland  that  bore  upward  to  a  ridge  where  the 
lights  of  the  house  suddenly  burst  upon  them.  The 
river,  Kemp  explained,  lay  just  below. 

A  Japanese  boy  in  white  duck  flung  open  the  door 
and  smilingly  bowed  them  in. 

Kemp  called  his  place  The  Shack,  but  in  reality 
it  was  a  dignified  old  homestead  that  had  been  en- 
larged and  only  slightly  modernized.  The  parlor  and 
sitting  room  of  the  old  part  had  been  thrown  into  one 
room  with  the  broad  fire  place  preserved.  The  floors 
were  painted  and  covered  with  rag  rugs;  the  fur- 
niture was  of  a  type  that  graced  the  homes  of  well-to- 
do  Middle  Westerners  in  about  the  period  of  the 
Mexican  war.  The  rooms  were  lighted  by  a  variety 
of  glass  table-lamps  with  frosted  shades  adorned  with 
crystal  pendants.  These  survivals  of  the  days  of 
"coal-oil"  lighting  were  now  cleverly  arranged  to  con- 
ceal the  electrical  source  of  their  illumination. 

"Isn't  it  a  peach  of  a  house?"  demanded  Irene  as 
she  convoyed  Grace  through  the  lower  rooms  with  a 
careless  air  of  proprietorship.  She  led  the  way  up 
the  steep  stairway,  that  had  been  retained  as  built  by 
the  original  owner,  to  the  rooms  above.  The  exten- 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  57 

sions,  following  strictly  the  original  simple  architec- 
ture, made  a  commodious  place  of  the  house,  which 
rambled  on  in  an  inadvertent  fashion  bewildering  to 
a  first  visitor.  A  wing  that  had  been  added  in  recent 
years  was  hardly  distinguishable  from  the  old  rooms. 
Concessions  to  modern  convenience  and  comfort  had 
been  made  in  the  sleeping  rooms,  of  which  there  were 
half  a  dozen,  with  white  woodwork,  walls  in  neutral 
tints,  and  wicker  furniture  in  summer  cottage  style. 

"It's  all  perfectly  adorable,"  cried  Grace  as  they 
paused  in  one  of  the  rooms. 

"You've  got  to  hand  it  to  Tommy,"  remarked  Irene; 
"he  does  have  taste." 

"Maybe — "  Grace  hesitated  and  Irene  instantly 
read  her  thoughts. 

"Oh,  you're  looking  for  the  traces  of  a  woman's 
hand!  Bless  your  heart,  Mrs.  Kemp  doesn't  bother 
about  The  Shack!  It  was  Tommy's  idea.  The  fam- 
ily come  out  for  week  ends  in  the  spring  and  fall  and 
Tommy  makes  a  point  of  having  Thanksgiving  and 
Christmas  dinners  out  here,  and  Mrs.  Kemp  invites 
the  guests.  I  need  hardly  say" — Irene  walked  to  a 
chiffonier  and  inspected  her  face  intently  in  the  mir- 
ror— "that  I've  never  been  invited  to  these  en  famille 
functions." 

"It  seems  queer,"  remarked  Grace,  dropping  her 
hat  on  the  bed, — "I  mean  it's  queer  our  being  here 
when  she  doesn't  know!" 

"Why  not?"  said  Irene,  surveying  herself  slowly 
before  the  glass.  "She'd  probably  like  us  if  she  knew 
us,  and  didn't  know  we  work  for  a  living.  If  Tommy 
just  has  to  play  a  little  isn't  it  fine  that  he  chooses  nice 
little  playmates  like  us?  He  might  do  much  worse, 
and  get  into  awful  scrapes.  You  needn't  be  afraid 
that  the  lady  of  the  house  will  come  tearing  in  and 


58  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

make  a  fuss.  Tommy  never  takes  a  chance.  Her 
ladyship's  in  New  York  spending  a  lot  of  money  and 
having  a  grand  old  time.  For  all  we  know  she's  play- 
ing around  a  little  bit  herself!" 

"Oh,  it  wasn't  that  I  was  thinking  of  so  much," 
Grace  replied  hastily.  "I  was  just  thinking  that  it's 
like  a  play,  this  quaint  interesting  house  hidden  away, 
with  all  these  lovely  things,  and  kind  of  funny  to  think 
that  there  is  a  woman  somewhere  who  belongs  here." 

"While  we're  here  we  belong,  my  dear.  We'll  pre- 
tend it's  all  ours.  My  conscience  had  awful  twinges 
the  first  time  I  came  out;  but  one  does  somehow  get 
used  to  things.  There's  no  use  bucking  the  spirit  of 
the  age;  we've  got  to  step  to  the  music  of  the  band. 
Tommy  prefers  a  party  of  four  and  nearly  always 
brings  an  out  of  town  man,  so  I  have  to  find  the  other 
girl.  If  you  like  this  party  I'll  put  you  on  for  some 
more." 

She  swung  around  and  eyed  Grace  critically. 

"You're  just  right!  Tommy  whispered  to  me  in 
the  car  that  you  were  wonderful, — the  first  thing  you 
know  he'll  be  flirting  with  you." 

"Don't  be  so  foolish!  Any  one  can  see  that  he's 
crazy  about  you." 

"Well,  that  kind  of  insanity  doesn't  last.  These 
little  affairs  are  good  for  a  while,  but  something  always 
happens  sooner  or  later." 

She  spoke  with  cheerful  indifference  as  though  it 
were  the  inevitable  ordering  of  fate  that  such  affairs 
should  be  brief. 

At  the  table,  with  candles  diffusing  a  yellow  glow 
upon  the  silver  and  crystal  the  party  struck  at  once 
a  key  of  gaiety. 

"Don't  be  afraid  of  the  cocktail,  Grace,"  said  Kemp, 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  59 

lifting  his  glass;  "only  a  little  orange  juice  and  a  very 
good  gin  I  planted  out  here  in  the  woods  before  pro- 
hibition." 

"When  all  the  rest  of  the  world  is  dry  Tommy  will 
still  have  a  few  bottles  put  away,"  said  Irene.  "There's 
going  to  be  champagne,  too!  Here's  to  you,  Tommy! " 

Grace  sipped  the  cocktail  warily,  drank  a  third  of  it 
and  put  it  down  with  a  covert  glance  at  the  others  to 
see  whether  they  were  watching  her. 

"We're  all  entitled  to  a  dividend,"  said  Kemp.  "Get 
busy,  Jerry." 

Grace  was  fingering  the  stem  of  the  cocktail  glass, 
meditating  whether  she  should  try  it  again,  when  Tren- 
ton met  her  gaze.  Irene  and  Kemp  were  talking 
animatedly,  quite  indifferent  to  the  other  members  of 
the  party. 

"You  really  don't  want  that,"  Trenton  said.  "If 
you're  not  used  to  it  let  it  alone." 

He  took  her  glass,  brimming  from  the  dividend 
Jerry  had  poured  into  it,  and  slowly  drained  it. 

With  a  smile  Grace  quickly  moved  the  glass  back  in 
front  of  her  plate,  glancing  at  Irene  and  Kemp  to  see 
whether  they  were  observing  her. 

"Thank  you  ever  so  much.  I  really  am  not  used 
to  those  things." 

"I  thought  not;  otherwise  I  should  have  let  you 
alone." 

"How  did  you  know?"  she  asked. 

"Oh,  that's  part  of  my  business,  to  know  things 
without  being  told.  You  might  say  that  I  earn  my 
living  that  way." 

He  seemed  amused  about  something;  he  constantly 
seemed  secretly  amused  in  a  way  of  his  own;  but  there 
was  no  mistaking  his  wish  to  be  kind,  and  Grace  was 


60  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

grateful  for  his  kindness.  The  light  touch  of  his 
fingers  as  he  took  the  glass  from  her  hand  was  in 
itself  reassuring. 

"We're  alone  hi  the  midst  of  a  deep,  dark  forest," 
she  heard  Kemp  exclaim. 

Turning,  she  saw  him  bending  toward  Irene,  his 
arm  round  her  shoulders,  kissing  her. 


CHAPTER  FOUR 
I 

THAT  Irene  and  Kemp  should  embrace  and  kiss  at 
the  table  Grace  assumed  to  be  the  accepted  procedure 
at  such  parties.  Kissing  to  the  accompaniment  of 
cocktails  was  not  without  its  piquancy,  but  the  pic- 
ture presented  by  Irene  and  Kemp  she  found  unedi- 
fying.  Under  the  stimulus  of  alcohol  Kemp  and 
Irene  seemed  to  have  thrown  away  the  dignity  with 
which  they  had  begun  the  party.  Grace  was  not 
without  her  experience  of  kissing,  but  her  experiences 
had  been  boy-and-girl  transactions,  all  the  sweeter  for 
their  privacy.  She  wondered  whether  it  might  not  be 
necessary  for  Trenton  to  kiss  her,  but  instead  he  re- 
buked Kemp  and  Irene  with  mock  severity  for  their 
unbecoming  conduct. 

"You  two  have  no  manners!  We're  terribly  embar- 
rassed on  this  side  of  the  table." 

"Do  excuse  us!"  cried  Kemp.  "We  were  merely 
carried  away  by  our  emotions.  I  just  happened  to  re- 
member that  I  hadn't  kissed  Irene  for  a  week." 

"Well,  you  needn't  pull  that  cave  man  stuff  here," 
said  Irene  petulantly.  She  opened  her  vanity  box 
and  squinted  at  herself  in  the  tiny  mirror. 

"Pardon,  everybody,  while  I  powder  my  nose." 

"Ward's  never  been  kissed  to  my  knowledge, 
Grace,"  said  Kemp,  apparently  undisturbed  by  Irene's 
complaint  of  his  roughness.  "The  field's  open  to 
you!" 

"Oh,  we're  not  going  to  begin  in  public,"  said 
Grace;  "are  we  Ward?" 

61 


62  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

She  turned  smilingly  toward  Trenton,  who  met  her 
gaze  quizzically. 

"I'll  say  I've  never  been  so  tempted  before,"  he 
answered. 

"Oh,  you're  bound  to  come  to  it!"  cried  Irene. 
"Grace  can't  pretend  she's  never  been  kissed.  She's 
just  a  little  coy,  that's  all." 

"I'm  not  coy!"  Grace  protested.  "But  I'm  all  out 
of  practice." 

"Well,  we  can  easily  fix  that!"  said  Kemp,  jumping 
to  his  feet.  "I'm  going  to  kiss  you  right  now.  My 
sense  of  hospitality  demands  it." 

"Not  much  you're  not!"  cried  Irene,  forcing  him 
back  into  his  chair.  "I  see  you  kissing  Grace!" 

" Jealous  1"  cried  Kemp,  striking  his  hands  together 
with  delight.  "Jealous  at  last!  But  you  needn't  be 
scared  Grace.  There's  no  fun  kissing  a  girl  against 
her  will." 

"How  do  you  know  it  would  be  against  my  will?" 
Grace  demanded. 

"Well,  it  would  be  against  mine,"  said  Irene. 
"Ward,  why  don't  you  keep  Grace  interested?  I'm 
not  going  to  have  Tommy  falling  in  love  with  her. 
We've  had  some  girls  out  here  who  played  up  to 
Tommy  and  tried  to  take  him  away  from  me.  That's 
why  I  brought  Grace.  She's  an  old  pal  of  mine  and 
my  little  boy's  not  going  to  flirt  with  her,  is  you 
Tommy?" 

"Of  course  I  isn't!"  Kemp  answered  and  in  proof 
of  his  loyalty  he  kissed  Irene  again. 

The  food  Jerry  was  serving  called  for  praise  and  the 
Japanese  grinned  his  appreciation  of  the  compliments 
they  bestowed  upon  his  cooking.  Kemp  carved  the 
turkey;  he  always  did  his  own  carving;  it  gave  the 
home  touch,  he  explained.  Irene  said  she  would  make 
the  salad  dressing  and  that  would  be  another  home 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  63 

touch.  The  essentials  were  placed  before  her  and  she 
composed  the  dressing  after  a  recipe  Kemp  had  taught 
her.  It  was  the  inspiration  of  Kemp's  pet  waiter  in  a 
New  York  club.  Kemp  talked  for  some  time  of. 
waiters  he  knew  and  their  genius  in  the  composition 
of  salads. 

Grace  had  never  before  heard  food  discussed  by 
an  epicure.  It  seemed  odd  that  a  busy  man  should 
have  given  so  much  time  and  thought  to  the  formulae 
of  the  kitchen.  Kemp  appealed  to  Trenton  for  con- 
firmation of  his  appraisement  of  the  merits  of  the 
cooking  they  had  enjoyed  together  in  various  parts  of 
the  country,  Trenton  replying  in  a  whimsical  fashion, 
tolerant  of  his  friend's  enthusiasm,  but  letting  it  be 
known  that  as  for  himself  he  was  much  less  fastidious 
about  his  food.  Kemp  paused  in  his  neat,  skilled  carv- 
ing of  the  turkey  to  deliver  a  lecture  on  green  turtle 
soup.  One  might  have  thought  that  the  whole  progress 
of  civilization  depended  on  settling  then  and  there 
exactly  where  green  turtle  soup  attained  perfection. 
Kemp's  insistence  that  the  New  York  Yacht  Club  was 
entitled  to  highest  honors  in  this  particular  brought 
from  Trenton  the  remark  that  he  knew  a  place  in 
Kansas  where  the  mock  turtle  was  preferable  to  any 
other  liquid  food  he  knew. 

"Heathen!"  cried  Kemp  disdainfully. 

"Let's  talk  of  ham  and  eggs, — a  brain  food  superior 
to  the  much-boasted  pie,"  Trenton  suggested.  "There's 
a  boarding  house  in  a  coal  mining  town  in  Southern 
Colorado  where  a  woman  sets  out  the  best  ham  and 
eggs  I  ever  ate.  I  ought  to  know;  I  ate  'em  three 
times  a  day  for  two  months ! " 

"You're  an  ostrich!  If  you  don't  swear  this  is  the 
finest  turkey  you  ever  ate  I'll  tell  Jerry  to  serve  you 
ham  and  eggs  and  I'll  make  you  eat  'em." 

Grace  eyed  her  champagne  glass  with  the  same 


64  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

hesitancy  with  which  she  had  regarded  the  cocktail. 
She  had  never  before  seen  champagne.  From  what 
she  had  heard  and  read  of  it  she  knew  it  to  be  one  of 
the  essentials  of  the  new  order  of  life  into  which  she 
was  being  initiated. 

"That's  the  very  last,"  said  Kemp,  taking  the  bottle 
from  the  cooler  and  holding  it  up  for  their  admiration. 
"Positively  the  last!" 

"Same  old  joke!"  exclaimed  Irene.  "Tommy's  got 
enough  liquor  hid  away  out  here  to  last  forty  years. 
I've  seen  the  cave  he  built  to  keep  it  in — there's 
oceans  of  it!" 

"A  rotten  exaggeration,"  Kemp  rejoined,  thrusting 
the  bottle  back  into  the  cooler  and  taking  up  his  glass. 
"I  haven't  enough  to  last  me  twenty." 

Irene  now  engaged  him  in  a  lively  debate  as  to  the 
merits  of  the  wine.  She  pretended  to  a  critical  knowl- 
edge of  vintages  and  after  demanding  to  see  the  label 
expressed  serious  doubts  as  to  the  authenticity  of  the 
contents. 

Kemp  challenged  her  assertions;  apparently  the 
two  found  the  greatest  pleasure  in  taunting  each  other. 

"They're  off!"  groaned  Trenton;  "you'd  think  they 
hated  each  other  from  the  way  they  talk.  We'll  be 
dignified,  Grace,  and  keep  out  of  their  silly  con- 
troversies. Between  ourselves,  I've  been  exposed  to  a 
great  deal  of  champagne,  but  I  can't  tell  one  brand 
from  another." 

"It's  terribly  dangerous,  isn't  it?"  asked  Grace, 
peering  into  her  glass.  "I  took  your  advice  about 
the  cocktail  and  I  didn't  feel  it  at  all;  how  much  may 
I  drink  of  this?" 

"Well,  about  a  quarter  of  that  won't  do  you  any 
harm,"  Trenton  replied  after  pondering  the  matter 
with  exaggerated  gravity.  "It  seems  to  me  you're  rub- 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  65 

bing  it  in  just  a  little  by  asking  my  opinion  in  that  tone 
of  voice.    One  might  think  I  was  your  father." 

"Oh,  you're  not  nearly  old  enough  for  that!  But 
would  you  be  ashamed  of  me,"  Grace  asked,  sipping 
the  wine  and  holding  up  the  glass  each  time  that  he 
might  see  that  she  was  not  exceeding  her  allowance. 

"I  shouldn't  be  ashamed  of  you  even  if  you  were 
my  aunt!  I  was  just  thinking  how  singular  it  is  that 
when  a  man  reaches  forty  he  wants  every  girl  he  meets 
to  think  he's  only  twenty-seven.  Have  you  noticed 
that?" 

"No;  but  I'll  remember  it.  I  can  see  you're  terribly 
wise.  Have  I  had  enough  of  this  pretty  stuff?" 

He  inspected  her  glass  carefully  and  nodded. 

"Just  about." 

"If  I  drank  it  all  I  might  be  more  amusing,"  she 
suggested.  "I  might  be  as  lively  as  Irene." 

"Let  me  study  you  first  without  artificial  stimula- 
tion. As  I  have  every  intention  of  keeping  sober  my- 
self you'll  get  some  little  idea  of  what  manner  of 
being  I  am.  A  first  meeting  is  important — it's  either 
that  or  nothing.  If  we  both  got  tipsy  it  would  be 
different;  but  frankly  I  don't  like  being  tipsy.  Oh, 
don't  think  I've  never  been!  Far,  far  from  it.  But 
tonight  I  have  a  feeling  that  it  wouldn't  be  appropriate 
for  me  to  lose  my  head." 

"No-o?"  she  inquired,  with  all  the  mockery  she 
dared  employ. 

They  were  interrupted  by  a  question  from  Kemp, 
who  was  now  discussing  automobiles  with  Irene. 
Kemp  invited  Trenton's  support  in  his  defense  of  the 
limousine  in  which  they  had  driven  to  The  Shack. 
The  car  was  not  to  Irene's  liking  and  she  warned  him 
never  to  buy  another  of  the  same  make.  Kemp  tried 
to  explain  why  he  had  not  met  her  wishes  in  the 


66  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

matter.  The  car  was  a  product  of  his  home  town  and 
the  manufacturer  was  a  friend  and  it  was  his  policy 
to  patronize  local  industries.  Grace  thought  it 
ridiculous  that  Irene  should  show  so  much  feeling 
about  a  matter  which  was,  strictly  speaking,  none  of 
her  concern.  The  car  had  seemed  to  Grace  a  ma- 
chine of  much  splendor  and  it  had  borne  them  speedily 
and  comfortably  to  the  farm.  She  was  unable  to  un- 
derstand why  her  friend  was  so  earnestly  denounc- 
ing it. 

"Don't  let  them  bother  you,"  said  Trenton,  "they 
get  into  a  row  about  cars  every  time  I'm  here.  Their 
ignorance  is  pitiful;  neither  one  of  them  knows  a 
thing  about  it." 

"Who  doesn't  know  anything  about  cars?"  de- 
manded Irene  testily. 

"Ah!  I've  wakened  the  enemy's  pickets,"  laughed 
Trenton.  "You  two  ought  to  remember  that  just  six 
weeks  ago  tonight  you  threshed  out  the  whole  busi- 
ness. You  ought  to  know  by  this  time,  Irene,  that 
Tommy  is  as  obstinate  as  a  mule.  He'd  be  sure  to 
buy  the  very  car  you  warned  him  against." 

"Oh,  I  knew  all  the  time  that's  what  he'd  do.  Of 
course  I  don't  have  to  be  satisfied.  But  I'd  rather 
ride  in  a  jitney,"  Irene  rejoined  scornfully. 

"Knowing  your  aristocratic  taste  I  don't  see  you," 
said  Kemp,  turning  to  the  others.  "We  are  not  really 
fussing  today;  it's  just  a  little  sketch  we're  putting  on. 
Irene  and  I  never  quarrel.  I  just  lead  her  on  for  the 
joy  of  seeing  how  ignorant  she  is  about  the  things  she 
spouts  about  the  loudest." 

The  talk  now  shifted  to  the  theatre,  it  appearing 
that  Kemp  in  his  business  trips  to  New  York  found 
time  to  cultivate  the  acquaintance  of  many  actors  and 
actresses.  Irene  had  met  some  of  them,  both  in  New 
York,  where  she  seemed  to  have  encountered  Kemp 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  67 

on  her  buying  excursions  for  Shipley's,  and  at  home, 
where  Kemp  always  "threw  a  party"  for  his  par- 
ticular admirations  among  theatrical  people  when  they 
visited  Indianapolis.  Apparently  these  parties  had 
been  very  gay  from  the  manner  in  which  Irene  and 
Kemp  referred  to  them.  They  recounted  with  par- 
ticular delight  an  occasion  on  which  the  star  of  a 
musical  comedy  had  with  the  greatest  difficulty  been 
put  into  condition  to  resume  his  itinerary  after  a  Sat- 
urday night  at  The  Shack.  Irene  was  moved  to  im- 
moderate laughter  at  the  recollection. 

"When  he  gets  a  bun  he's  ever  so  much  funnier  off 
the  stage  than  he  ever  is  on.  He  climbed  out  of  a 
window  when  we  were  trying  to  get  him  in  shape  to 
go  to  his  train  and  would  you  believe  it! — we  found 
him  in  the  barnyard  talking  to  a  pig!  Then  he  cried 
to  take  the  little  brown  piggy  with  him;  he  said  he 
wanted  it  for  his  understudy.  He  was  perfectly 
screaming  about  that  silly  little  pig,  and  we  fooled 
around  so  long  he  missed  the  last  possible  train  and 
Tommy  had  to  drive  him  clear  to  Chicago  for  a  Sun- 
day night  opening.  He  kept  saying  every  time  we 
told  him  he  had  missed  another  train  that  he  would 
wait  till  it  came  back!  You  couldn't  beat  that!" 

Grace  and  Trenton  were  laughing  more  at  Irene's 
enjoyment  of  her  own  story  than  at  the  incident  itself. 
They  learned  that  the  comedian  had  finally  been 
landed  at  the  stage  door  of  the  Chicago  theatre  where 
he  was  to  appear  barely  in  time  to  dress  for  his  part. 
Kemp  was  enthusiastic  about  the  drive,  which  had 
broken  all  records.  He  interrupted  Irene's  story  with 
many  details  of  the  flight  which  she  had  forgotten. 

When  Irene  and  Kemp  again  became  absorbed  in 
each  other  Grace  picked  up  the  thread  of  her  talk  with 
Trenton. 

"We  stopped  just  where  it  was  growing  interesting," 


68  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

she  remarked.  "Let's  go  right  on  where  we  left  off. 
You  were  saying  you  thought  it  better  not  to  lose  your 
head  tonight.  Was  that  on  my  account?  Am  I  such 
a  young  innocent  that  you've  got  to  take  care  of 
me?" 

He  laughed  at  the  eagerness  with  which  she  flung 
these  sentences  at  him.  If  she  was  affected  by  her  re- 
stricted potations  there  was  nothing  in  her  manner  or 
speech  to  indicate  the  fact.  Her  eyes  were  bright, 
but  only  from  the  excitement  of  her  entrance  upon 
a  new  field  of  adventure.  Once  a  young  student  at  the 
university  had  addressed  some  verses  "To  Her  Quest- 
ing Eyes"  and  published  them  in  one  of  the  college 
periodicals.  The  poem  had  been  instantly  recognized 
as  a  tribute  to  Grace  Durland;  questing  was  a  fitting 
term  for  a  certain  look  that  came  into  her  eyes  at 
times  when  her  habitual  eager  gaze  became  crossed 
oddly  with  a  far-away  look  of  revery.  Trenton  was 
doing  full  justice  to  her  eyes  and  was  mindful  of  their 
swift  changes. 

"On  the  whole  I  don't  really  believe  you  need  pro- 
tecting," he  answered.  "Oh,  just  a  little,  perhaps; 
but  I  think  I'd  trust  you  to  take  care  of  yourself." 

"But  what  if  I  don't  want  to  be  taken  care  of!  What 
if  I  want  to  jump  into  the  water  with  a  big  splash  1" 

"Urn!  So  that's  the  idea?  Well,  I  think  you'd 
swim  out;  and  yet  again  you  mightn't.  There  are 
those  who  don't,"  he  ended  gravely. 

"I'm  not  afraid — I'm  not  afraid  of  anything!"  she 
said  with  a  defiant  lifting  of  her  head. 

"Dear  me!"  He  narrowed  his  eyes  and  looked  at 
her  sharply.  "Broadly  speaking,  it's  better  not  to  be 
afraid  of  life;  life's  got  to  be  lived."  He  pecked  at 
his  salad  for  a  moment,  then  put  down  his  fork  and 
went  on.  "We've  got  to  meet  situations;  play  the 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  69 

game  with  the  cards  as  they're  dealt.  We  hear  a  good 
deal  these  days  about  our  grand  old  grandfathers  and 
what  heroic  stuff  they  were  made  of.  They  fought 
with  savages  who  didn't  have  the  right  ammunition 
to  fight  back  with;  but  nowadays  the  savages  are  in- 
side of  us.  The  wild  streak  in  man  is  showing  itself. 
It's  in  all  of  us." 

He  touched  his  breast  lightly  and  smiled  to  minimize 
the  seriousness  of  what  he  was  saying. 

"Right  around  here,  where  the  com  grows  tall,  you 
might  think — and  probably  a  lot  of  people  back 
yonder  in  the  city  like  to  think — that  everything's  safe 
and  it's  easy  to  be  good!  We're  all  being  tested  all 
the  time.  The  man  who  was  an  angel  fifty  years  ago 
would  probably  be  a  perfect  devil  these  days  if  he  had 
half  a  chance.  The  world  is  a  different  place  every 
morning;  but  that's  only  an  old  habit  the  world  has. 
It  keeps  spinning  a  little  faster  all  the  time.  Now 
we've  got  right  here — "  with  a  slight  movement  of  the 
head  he  indicated  Kemp  and  Irene — "we've  got  a  sit- 
uation that  wouldn't  have  been  possible  twenty  years 
ago — at  least  not  in  a  town  like  this.  But  we  may  be 
sure  something  of  the  kind  was  going  on  only  it  was 
better  hidden.  Nowadays  with  more  people  and  more 
wealth  and  the  general  craving  for  excitement  things 
happen  differently.  We  may  regret  such  things,  you 
and  I,  but  we  are  not  helping  matters  by  denying  they 
exist.  Everybody  is  restless;  people  are  living  as 
though  they  expected  to  die  tomorrow  and  are  afraid 
they're  going  to  miss  something;  but  I  don't  believe 
people  are  wickeder  than  they  used  to  be.  What  we 
used  to  call  wicked  we  call  naughty  now,  and  pretend 
it  doesn't  matter!" 

He  spoke  half  questioningly,  as  though  not  sure  of 
her  assent. 


70  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

"I  suppose  that's  so,"  she  replied  soberly.  "I  never 
thought  of  it  in  that  way.  But,"  she  added,  "you 
must  have  lots  of  other  responsibilities — more  im- 
portant ones,  without  troubling  about  me." 

"We're  not  much  use  in  the  world  if  we  haven't  a 
few.  I  think — I  think  I  might  put  you  on  my  list. 
How  would  you  like  that?" 

"It  would  be  wonderful  if  you  thought  me  worth 
thinking  about  after  we  leave  here!"  she  answered, 
her  eyes  bright. 

"If  I  never  saw  you  again  I  shouldn't  forget  you. 
You're  a  vivid  person;  I  can  honestly  say  that  you're 
the  most  interesting  person  I've  met  in  a  long  time." 

They  were  interrupted  by  Irene  and  Kemp  who 
rose  suddenly  from  the  table. 

"Tommy  and  I  are  going  to  dance,"  said  Irene. 
"You  two  can  have  your  coffee  where  you  like.  There's 
a  cordial  if  you  want  it — Tommy  has  everything,  you 
know."  She  rested  her  hand  for  a  moment  on  Tren- 
ton's shoulder.  Her  face  was  flushed  and  her  voice  a 
little  strident.  "You  two  are  spooning  beautifully. 
You  may  be  awfully  proud  of  yourself,  Grace.  I  never 
saw  Ward  so  interested  in  any  girl  before." 

"Run  along,  Irene;  Grace  and  I  are  talking  of 
serious  matters,"  Trenton  replied. 

"Listen  to  that,  Tommy!  These  idiots  are  serious! 
It'll  never  do  to  leave  them  here." 

Kemp  caught  Trenton  by  the  arm  and  dragged  him 
from  his  chair. 

"Can't  be  serious  'n  my  house,  Ward  Trenton!  Al- 
ways too  serious  for  Irene  and  me.  Just  look  't  that 
beautiful  girl  I  got  you  to  play  with;  silly  to  be  serious 
with  a  girl  like  that." 

"All  right;  we'll  dance  then,"  said  Trenton, 
amiably. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  71 

"Thass  the  talk!  Don't  forget  this  's  a  party,  not 
a  funeral." 

Jerry  had  rolled  back  the  rugs  and  pushed  the 
furniture  out  of  the  way  in  the  living  room.  Kemp 
and  Irene  were  already  on  the  floor  dancing  exag- 
geratedly to  the  air  of  one  of  the  new  records. 

"I'm  not  up  to  date  on  the  new  stuff,"  remarked 
Trenton  apologetically;  but  Grace  found  that  he 
danced  well  and  evidently  with  enjoyment. 

"You  two  not  drinkin'  enough,"  said  Kemp  in 
one  of  the  pauses,  planting  himself  waveringly  before 
Trenton  and  Grace  and  extending  a  glass.  "Gotta 
drink  more;  party's  no  good  without  wine;  lots  o' 
wine.  Want  everybody  t'  get  soused  like  me." 


II 


Grace's  experience  of  drunkenness  had  been  limited 
to  the  occasional  sight  of  a  tipsy  man  in  the  street 
and  she  was  shocked  by  the  unhappy  change  in 
Kemp's  appearance.  His  suave  courtesy  had  disap- 
peared. His  hair  was  in  disorder;  Irene  had  rumpled 
it  before  they  left  the  table,  saying  that  he  was  too 
pretty;  and  as  he  talked  his  head  moved  queerly  in 
time  with  his  jerky  articulation.  And  he  looked  old; 
one  might  have  thought  that  Age,  as  a  punishment 
for  his  intemperance  had  snatched  away  his  youthful 
mask.  Finding  that  Grace  and  Trenton  paid  no  heed 
to  his  demand  that  they  drink  more  wine  he  followed 
them  over  the  floor  and  finally  arrested  them  while  he 
apologized  elaborately  for  neglecting  Grace.  She  was 
his  guest  and  it  was  time  that  he  was  dancing  with 
her.  Irene  rose  from  the  couch  where  she  had  been 
watching  them  and  announced  her  determination  to 


.72  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

teach  Trenton  a  new  step;  his  manner  of  dancing  was 
all  out  of  date  she  said.  She  flung  her  arms  around  his 
neck  and  with  her  head  on  his  shoulder  pushed  him. 
about,  while  Kemp,  delighted  at  Trenton's  discom- 
fiture, clapped  his  hands  in  time  to  the  music. 

Grace,  finding  herself  free,  seized  the  moment  to 
try  to  escape,  but  Kemp  lunged  to  the  door  and  in- 
tercepted her. 

"Runnin'  'way  from  me!  Awfu'  bad  manners  run 
away  from  host.  Gotta  dance  with  me  like  Irene. 
Thass  right,  Grace;  good  li'l'  sport;  Irene's  friends  all 
good  sports." 

He  caught  her  arms  and  clasped  them  about  his 
neck  but  as  his  muddled  senses  were  unequal  to  re- 
sponding to  the  rhythm  of  the  music  the  performance 
resolved  itself  chiefly  into  an  attempt  on  Grace's  part 
to  keep  him  on  his  feet. 

"Sorry  I  stepped  on  you.  Awfu'  sorry,  Grace. 
Wouldn't  step  on  you  for  anything  in  this  wide,  wide 
world." 

"Oh,  it  was  great  fun!"  Grace  cried  when  the 
record  had  played  itself  out.  She  was  determined  to 
make  the  best  of  it,  but  Trenton,  mopping  his  brow, 
intervened. 

"Tommy,  you're  too  rough!  Grace  doesn't  want  to 
dance  any  more;  we're  going  to  have  our  coffee.  You 
go  and  dance  with  Irene." 

"Poor  sport!  Awfu'  poor  sport,"  Kemp  retorted 
as  Trenton  led  Grace  away.  He  bawled  after  them 
his  conviction  that  they  were  both  poor  sports  and 
resumed  dancing  with  Irene. 

Jerry  had  placed  the  coffee-tray  in  a  long,  com- 
fortably furnished  sun  porch  opening  off  the  dining 
room,  where  the  music  and  the  voices  from  the  living 
room  penetrated  only  feebly. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  73 

"I  think  I'm  going  to  like  this  better,"  said  Grace 
with  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"A  little  calm  is  agreeable  after  a  rough  house," 
said  Trenton  watching  her  intently  as  she  seated  her- 
self by  the  table  and  filled  the  cups.  "Tommy  never 
knows  his  limit,"  he  went  on,  taking  a  cigarette  from 
a  silver  box  on  the  stand.  "He  can't  carry  the  stuff 
as  he  used  to  and  he  doesn't  act  pretty  when  he's 
shot.  But  he  recovers  quickly;  he'll  be  all  right  soon. 
Irene  knows  how  to  manage  him.  One  lump,  thank 
you." 

Grace  was  still  breathing  deeply  from  the  violence 
of  her  romp  with  Kemp.  She  was  hoping  that  Trenton 
would  renew  the  talk  she  had  been  enjoying  at  the 
table;  but  his  silence  was  disconcerting.  She  won- 
dered whether  he  was  not  purposely  waiting  for  her 
to  speak,  to  show  her  reaction  to  the  scenes  in  which 
they  had  been  participating  in  the  living  room. 

She  turned  to  him  presently  with  a  slight  smile  on 
her  lips. 

"You  can  see  that  I'm  a  terrible  greenhorn.  I 
don't  know  how  to  act  at  a  party — not  this  kind  of 
a  party.  I  suppose  it  isn't  nice  of  us  to  run  away, 
but  you  were  an  angel  to  come  to  the  rescue." 

"It's  always  pleasant  to  be  called  an  angel!"  he 
remarked.  "It  hasn't  happened  to  me  for  sometime. 
Tommy  would  die  of  chagrin  if  he  knew  he'd  been 
making  a  monkey  of  himself;  but  he's  likely  to  do 
most  anything  when  he  gets  a  bun." 

Jerry  came  in  to  inspect  the  wick  of  the  coffee 
lamp  and  Trenton  detained  him. 

"Oh!  Jerry,  you  needn't  serve  any  more  drinks. 
Mr.  Kemp  doesn't  need  any  more." 

"Yezzah."  The  boy  bowed  imperturbably  and  with- 
drew. 


74  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

<• 

"Jerry  and  I  understand  each  other  perfectly.  He'll 
take  care  of  that.  I  wonder  what  the  boy  thinks!  But 
you  never  can  penetrate  the  innermost  recesses  of  the 
Oriental  mind.  He  probably  doesn't  approve  of 
Tommy's  parties,  if  we  knew  the  truth." 

"I  suppose  he's  used  to  them.  Let  me  see,  what 
were  we  talking  about?" 

"We  hadn't  settled  anything;  we  were  going  round 
in  a  circle. 

"Then  let's  keep  revolving!  I  want  to  hear  you 
talk  some  more.  I  want  to  know  your  ideas  about 
everything." 

"Oh,  that's  a  large  order,"  he  laughed.  "But  I'll 
do  my  best!" 

She  was  struck  suddenly  with  a  fear  that  he  might 
be  finding  her  company  irksome.  It  was  quite  likely 
that  at  other  times,  when  he  had  been  provided  with 
a  companion  familiar  with  the  technic  of  such  parties, 
he  had  contributed  more  to  the  gaiety  of  the  occasions. 
But  her  imagination  was  unequal  to  the  task  of 
visualizing  him  in  such  antics  as  Kemp  was  engaged 
in.  He  impressed  her  more  and  more  as  she  studied 
him  as  a  man  who  kept  himself  in  perfect  control; 
who  found  indeed  a  secret  enjoyment  in  merely  look- 
ing on  when  others  were  bent  upon  making  an  exhibi- 
tion of  themselves. 

"We  were  speaking  awhile  ago  of  our  naughtiness  in 
accepting  an  invitation  to  a  function  like  this.  I've 
attended  a  lot  of  such  parties  here  and  elsewhere.  I 
am  always  wondering  why  I'm  invited  and  why  I  go. 
Perhaps,"  he  smiled  quizzically,  "it's  to  give  moral 
tone!  That's  undoubtedly  why  you  were  invited." 

"That  excuse  won't  do  for  me!"  she  replied  quickly. 
"I  wanted  to  come;  I  was  perfectly  crazy  to  come!" 

"Well,  it's  just  as  well  to  satisfy  your  curiosity.    I 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  75 

assure  you  these  parties  are  all  alike.  I've  taken  a 
hand  in  them  in  every  part  of  the  world.  The  only 
thing  that  makes  this  one  different  is — "  he  smiled 
broadly  and  his  eyes  danced  with  humor — "is  you!  I 
might  say  that  you  are  quite  different.  You  create 
an  atmosphere  quite  your  own." 

"Hurry  up  and  explain  that!"  She  clasped  her 
hands  in  mock  appeal.  "I  might  be  different  and  still 
very  unsatisfactory!" 

"Yes,  there  is  that  possibility,"  he  answered  mus- 
ingly. "A  girl  requires  a  little  practice  to  catch  the 
stroke.  That  is,  she  has  got  to  get  over  the  first  shock 
before  she  becomes  a  good  party  girl.  You're  a  novice. 
It  will  be  interesting  to  know  just  how  you  emerge 
from  the  novitiate." 

"Would  you  be  interested  in  that, — really?" 

"Vastly!" 

Her  attention  wavered  and  with  a  quick  lifting  of 
the  head  she  bent  a  startled  questioning  look  upon 
him.  The  new  records  of  distinguished  operatic  stars 
which  Kemp  and  Irene  had  been  playing  had  served 
as  a  faint  accompaniment  to  their  talk,  but  the  music 
and  the  sound  of  voices  were  no  longer  audible  in  the 
sun  porch.  Grace  glanced  nervously  about,  oppressed 
by  the  silence.  Voices  and  steps  were  heard  in  the 
rooms  above.  Trenton  asked  if  she  had  read  a 
novel  which  he  took  from  the  lower  shelf  of  the 
stand  that  held  the  coffee  things.  Her  negative 
reply  was  almost  hostile  and  she  did  not  meet 
his  gaze.  Her  face  wore  a  look  of  cold  detach- 
ment. It  seemed  to  him  that  the  girl  was  no  longer 
there;  that  what  he  saw  was  merely  a  shadowy  shape 
that  might  pass  utterly  at  any  moment.  He  rose 
and  dropped  his  half-smoked  cigarette  into  an  ash- 
tray on  the  stand.  When  he  faced  her  again  the  look 


76  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

had  changed.  He  interpreted  it  as  an  appeal  and  he 
was  not  unmindful  of  its  poignancy.  She  sat  erect, 
her  head  lifted,  her  hands  clasped  upon  her  knees. 

"I  was  just  wondering — "  she  began. 

"Oh,  Tommy  and  Irene?  They're  about  some- 
where," he  said  carelessly.  He  reached  for  a  fresh 
cigarette,  eyed  it  as  though  it  were  an  unfamiliar  thing 
and  lighted  it  deliberately.  That  look  in  her  face,  the 
appeal  in  her  eyes,  had  struck  deep  into  him.  He  sat 
down  beside  her  on  the  davenport,  crossed  his  knees 
and  folded  his  arms.  His  composure  restored  her 
confidence.  In  a  moment  she  settled  back,  quite  her- 
self again. 

He  touched  rapidly  upon  a  great  number  of  prob- 
lems, talking  well,  with  an  animation  that  surprised 
her.  But  she  knew  that  he  was  trying  to  make  her 
forget  her  perturbation  of  a  moment  ago.  It  was  an 
enormous  satisfaction  to  know  that  he  understood;  it 
was  almost  uncanny  that  he  understood  so  much  of 
what  was  in  her  mind  and  heart  without  being  told. 

"If  it  isn't  impudent  for  me  to  ask,  I'd  like  to  know 
just  what  you're  aiming  at,"  he  said.  "You  look  like 
a  girl  who  might  be  cursed  with  ambitions.  Can't 
you  let  me  into  the  secret?" 

"Oh,  honestly,  I  haven't  anyl  When  I  was  at  the 
university  I  thought  I  had  some — but  they  were  silly. 
Like  every  other  girl  I  was  crazy  for  a  while  to  be 
a  trained  nurse,  then  a  settlement  worker,  and  I  even 
thought  I  might  be  a  writer,  and  for  about  a  week 
I  had  a  craze  to  study  medicine.  Then  I  had  to  leave 
college,  so  I  took  a  job  in  a  department  store!  How's 
that  for  ambition!" 

"A  little  mixed;  but  the  books  are  not  closed  yet! 
There's  plenty  of  time  for  fresh  entries.  There's  mar- 
riage. You've  overlooked  that.  That  must  be  on 
the  program!" 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  77 

"It's  not  the  first  number !  College  girls  who  don't 
get  married  the  day  after  commencement  are  likely 
to  wait  awhile.  I'm  not  a  bit  excited  about  getting 
married.  I  want  to  look  the  world  over  before  I  settle 
down." 

Suppose  you  fell  in  love — some  fine  fellow  who  could 
take  good  care  of  you.  What  then?" 

"Well,  I've  had  chances  to  marry  and  I  couldn't  see 
it.  I've  never  been  in  love — not  really.  There's 
a  professor  who  wanted  to  marry  me — a  widower  with 
two  children.  You  wouldn't  have  me  do  that?  And 
young  fellows,  several  of  them,  very  nice,  who  caused 
me  a  lot  of  bother  before  I  got  rid  of  them.  I  lifced 
them  all  but  I  couldn't  love  them." 

"Then  I'll  make  the  prediction  that  always  applies 
in  such  cases;  some  day  you'll  meet  just  the  right  man 
and  that  will  be  the  end  of  it." 

"Maybe;  but  I  don't  see  it  now.  All  I  want — all  I 
want  right  now  is  to  be  free! "  she  said  and  a  far-away 
look  came  into  the  dark  eyes. 

"One  can  be  free  and  terribly  lonesome  too,"  he 
suggested.  "There's  nothing  quite  so  horrible  as  being 
lonesome.  This  is  a  big  world  and  just  knocking 
around  by  yourself  isn't  much  good.  We  all  need 
companionship;  the  soul  cries  for  it." 

She  glanced  at  him  quickly,  surprised  at  his  sudden 
seriousness  and  the  note  of  depression  in  his  voice. 
In  her  great  liking  for  him  she  groped  for  an  ex- 
planation of  his  change  of  mood.  He  had  not  struck 
her  as  at  all  a  moody  person.  Some  reply  seemed 
necessary  and  she  was  at  a  loss  to  know  what  to  say 
to  him. 

"But  you're  a  success!"  she  exclaimed.  "It's  only 
when  a  man  fails  that  he's  likely  to  be  lonesome." 

"Success  is  a  beautiful  word,  but  to  myself  I'm  a 
decided  failure.  I've  failed  in  the  most  important 


78  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

thing  a  man  ever  undertakes.  Don't  look  at  me  like 
thatl  I'll  explain.  I'm  supposed  to  be  a  mechanical 
expert,  but  there's  one  mechanism  that's  beyond  me. 
I'm  referring  to  the  heart  of  a  woman.  My  ignorance 
of  that  contrivance  is  complete." 

The  grim  look  that  had  come  into  his  face  yielded 
to  a  smile  as  he  saw  her  bewilderment. 

"You're  going  to  be  bored  in  a  minute  1  I  didn't 
want  you  to  think  me  more  than  twenty-seven  and 
you're  already  guessing  that  I'm  at  least  seventy  and 
a  doddering  wreck!" 

"I  wasn't  thinking  that  at  all.  You  seemed  unhappy 
and  I  was  sorry!" 

"Well,  don't  be  sorry  for  me.  I'm  not  deserving 
of  anyone's  pity — not  even  my  own.  When  I  spoke 
of  failure  I  was  thinking  of  my  marriage.  Irene  prob- 
ably told  you  I'm  married?" 

"Oh,  yes;  I  asked  her  the  first  thing!" 

"And  it  made  no  difference  to  you — about  coming 
I  mean." 

"None  whatever,"  she  laughed.  "I  just  thought  of 
it  as  an  experience." 

"Rather  like  studying  a  bug  under  glass,  is  that  it?" 

"Yes,  something  of  the  sort.  But — you  were  speak- 
ing of  your  wife." 

"Well,"  he  said  with  a  smile;  "my  being  married 
is  not  a  confidential  matter;  nothing  to  hide  or  be 
ashamed  of.  My  wife  is  a  very  charming  woman. 
You'd  probably  fall  under  her  spell  if  you  knew  her; 
people  frequently  do.  And  I  think  she'd  probably 
like  you." 

"Not  if  she  knew  I  had  met  you  at  a  party  like 
this." 

"Bless  you,  that  wouldn't  make  a  particle  of  differ- 
ence in  her  liking  you  or  not  liking  you!  She's  broad- 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  79 

minded — very  much  so!  And  it's  one  of  her  many 
good  points  that  she  isn't  jealous.  If  she  came  in  here 
and  found  me  talking  to  you  she  wouldn't  scream 
and  break  up  the  furniture;  she'd  join  in  the  conver- 
sation and  make  herself  interesting — say  startling 
things  just  to  make  us  sit  up.  After  a  fashion  she's  a 
philosopher,  very  much  entertained  by  what  the 
world's  doing.  She  sees  in  me  only  one  of  the  many 
millions,  a  queer  specimen  for  the  microscope.  She 
actually  puts  me  into  the  books  she  writes!" 

Grace  bent  her  head,  lifted  it  quickly  and  exclaimed: 
"Is  she  Mary  Graham  Trenton?  I've  read  her  'Clues 
to  a  New  Social  Order'  but  I  never  imagined " 

"No,  you  wouldn't  connect  me  with  anything  so 
daring!  I  need  hardly  repeat  that  she's  a  broad- 
minded  woman.  I'd  be  interested  to  know  how  you 
come  to  know  about  that  book." 

"Oh,  that's  easy  enough.  We  had  a  lecture  on  it  in 
our  sociology  course  at  the  university.  The  head 
of  the  department  didn't  approve  of  Mrs.  Trenton's 
views  and  warned  us  against  the  book,  so  of  course 
I  read  it!" 

"Naturally!" 

"But  it's  interesting;  awfully  interesting." 

"Written,  I  assure  you,"  laughed  Trenton,  "by  a 
remarkable  woman!" 


Ill 


The  unhappy  marriages  of  which  Grace  had  known 
had  failed  for  obvious  reasons,  but  Trenton's  case  was 
fascinating  in  its  subtleties.  He  spoke  of  his  wife 
as  a  man  might  speak  of  a  woman  he  admired  in  a 
detached  sort  of  way  without  really  knowing  her. 


80  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

In  spite  of  his  amiable  attitude  toward  Mrs.  Trenton, 
Grace  found  herself  instantly  his  partisan;  she  was 
sure  his  failure  as  he  called  it  was  his  wife's  fault. 
She  greatly  disliked  this  woman  she  had  never  seen. 
She  started  and  flushed  when  he  said  abruptly,  al- 
most as  though  he  had  read  her  thoughts: 

"You're  getting  ready  to  pity  me — but  don't  do 
it!  It's  something  in  me  that's  wrong.  We  don't 
quarrel  and  throw  dishes  across  the  table  or  call  each 
other  names.  We  respect  each  other  tremendously. 
It  isn't  even  one  of  these  triangular  affairs, — another 
man  or  woman.  When  we  meet  now  and  then  we 
talk  quite  sanely  and  sensibly  of  the  news  of  the 
day  and  the  arts  and  sciences,  as  two  strangers 
might  talk  in  a  smoking  car.  The  trouble  may  lie 
right  there.  A  man  and  wife  must  be  necessary  to 
each  other  to  make  a  perfect  marriage  and  we  are  not. 
For  seven  or  eight  years  we've  mostly  gone  our  sepa- 
rate ways.  She  has  her  own  interests,  plenty  of  them. 
If  I  tell  her  I'm  going  to  Hong  Kong  to  do  a  job  and 
ask  her  to  go  along  she'll  say  that  she  doesn't  think 
it  would  amuse  her.  She'll  go  to  Paris  and  stay  till 
I  come  back.  All  cheerful,  you  understand;  no  row! 
Mrs.  Trenton's  quite  able  to  do  as  she  pleases, — as  to 
money,  I  mean, — independently  of  me.  And  she 
knows  people  everywhere  and  they  like  to  have  her 
around.  I  like  having  her  around  myself!" 

"Perhaps  one  of  these  days  everything  will  come 
right,"  said  Grace. 

"Possibly,"  he  said.  "But  that's  enough  of  me. 
Let's  talk  about  you  a  little." 

He  drew  her  out  as  to  her  experiences  at  the  univer- 
sity but  when  these  were  exhausted  he  told  her  some- 
thing of  his  own  history.  He  had  been  thrown  upon 
the  world  at  an  early  age,  and,  not  without  difficulty, 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  81 

had  worked  his  way  through  a  technical  school.  His 
profession  had  carried  him  to  every  part  of  the  world. 
He  told  amusing  stories  of  the  reaction  of  remote 
foreign  peoples  to  the  magic  of  modern  machinery. 
No  other  man  had  ever  interested  Grace  half  so  much. 
Trenton  was  like  a  pilgrim  from  another  and  larger 
world;  she  was  fascinated  by  the  cosmopolitan  fashion 
in  which  he  changed  the  scene  of  his  adventures  from 
China  to  South  Africa  and  from  South  America  to 
far-flung  islands  whose  very  names  were  touched  with 
the  glamour  of  romance.  Some  of  his  journeys  had 
been  merely  pleasure  excursions;  he  got  restless  some- 
times, he  said,  and  had  to  go  somewhere;  but  chiefly 
he  had  traveled  to  sell  or  to  install  machinery,  or  to 
work  out  mechanical  problems  under  new  and  difficult 
conditions.  There  was  no  conceit  in  him — a  vein  of 
self-mockery  ran  through  most  of  his  talk.  He  made 
light  of  the  perplexities  and  dangers  he  had  encount- 
ered; there  was  no  fun,  he  said,  in  the  performance 
of  easy  tasks.  He  knew  usually  when  he  was  employed 
that  his  services  were  sought  in  the  hope  that  he 
might  be  able  to  solve  riddles  which  other  very  cap- 
able persons  had  given  up. 

Grace  studied  him  at  leisure  through  his  desultory 
monologue,  interrupting  only  to  ask  questions  to  keep 
him  assured  of  her  interest.  Her  mind  turned  back 
repeatedly  to  what  he  had  said  of  his"  wife.  She  was 
quite  sure  that  Mrs.  Trenton  didn't  appreciate  her 
husband's  fine  qualities.  He  was  a  man  of  genius, 
and  as  such  probably  wasn't  always  easy  to  under- 
stand; but  it  was  Mrs.  Trenton's  business,  the  girl  re- 
flected, to  learn  to  understand  him,  to  seek  ways  of 
making  him  happy.  She  was  more  and  more  struck 
by  his  seeming  indifference  to  most  things,  even  to 
his  own  achievements.  Her  imagination  played  upon 


82  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

him  with  girlish  romanticism.  He  ought  to  be  aroused, 
awakened;  he  deserved  to  be  loved,  to  have  the  com- 
panionship he  craved.  And  yet  from  the  manner  in 
which  he  spoke  of  his  wife  it  was  a  serious  question 
whether  he  didn't  love  her.  Whether  the  unknown 
woman  loved  him  was  another  question  that  kept 
thrusting  itself  into  her  thoughts. 

As  he  rambled  on  through  the  hour  they  were  alone 
he  played  fitfully  with  the  end  of  a  gold  locket  which 
he  carried  on  his  watch  chain.  He  would  draw  this 
from  his  right  hand  waistcoat  pocket,  seemingly  un- 
conscious of  what  he  was  doing,  and  hold  it  in  his  hand 
or  smooth  it  caressingly.  She  speculated  as  to  whether 
it  did  not  contain  a  picture  of  Mrs.  Trenton;  she  even 
considered  asking  him  to  let  her  see  it. 

Again  steps  and  voices  were  heard  above  and  Tren- 
ton looked  at  his  watch. 

"It's  eleven  o'clock  and  Tommy  and  I  are  taking 
the  midnight  train  for  St.  Louis,"  he  said.  "We've 
got  to  beat  it." 

She  rose  and  stood  beside  him,  sorry  that  the  eve- 
ning was  so  nearly  over. 

"I'll  always  remember  tonight;  you've  been  awfully 
nice  to  me!"  she  said. 

"Please  don't!  If  you  begin  thanking  me  I'll  know 
you  feel  I'm  older  than  the  hills.  I  see  it  all  now! 
I  made  my  story  cover  too  many  years!" 

"Oh,  that's  not  it  at  all!"  she  protested.  "I  was 
just  wondering  how  you  ever  crowded  so  much  into 
your  young  life!" 

"You  do  that  sort  of  thing  very  prettily!  And  when 
you  look  at  me  like  that  you  become  dangerous." 

"You  really  don't  think  I'm  dangerous — not  in  the 
least  little  bit!" 

"I'm  not  to  be  caught  in  that  trap!     A  wise  man 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  83 

never  acknowledges  to  a  woman  that  she's  dangerous. 
They  ought  to  have  taught  you  that  at  the  university. 
But  you're  patient!  You've  listened  to  me  as  Des- 
demona  listened  to  Othello!" 

"I  believe,"  she  said  daringly,  tilting  her  head,  "I 
believe  I'd  like  to  flirt  with  you — oh,  just  a  little  bit!" 

He  took  a  step  nearer,  his  hands  thrust  into  his 
pockets  in  his  characteristic  way.  He  drew  them  out 
and  they  fell  to  his  side  as  he  regarded  her  fixedly 
with  a  smile  on  his  lips.  Then  very  gently  he  took  her 
cheeks  between  his  hands.  She  thrilled  at  the  touch. 
They  were  fine  strong  hands ;  she  had  noted  repeatedly 
all  through  the  evening  now  finely  formed  they  were, 
and  the  strength  implied  in  them. 

"It's  meant  very  much  to  me  to  meet  you — you 
can't  know  how  much.  I  almost  feel  that  I  know  you 
a  little  bit." 

"It's  meant  so  much  more  to  me,"  she  returned 
sincerely.  "I'd  be  ashamed  if  I  wasn't  grateful.  And 
that  doesn't  mean  at  all  that  I  feel  that  you're  a  day 
older  than  I  am!" 

They  were  smiling  gravely  into  each  other's  eyes. 
There  was  not  for  the  moment  at  least  any  question 
of  a  disparity  of  years.  She  drew  away  slowly  until 
her  face  was  free  of  his  touch;  then  she  laid  her  hands 
lightly  on  his  shoulders. 

"Please  kiss  me,"  she  whispered,  and  their  lips  met. 

"Here,  you  two!" 

They  swung  around  to  find  Kemp  in  the  door,  watch 
in  hand. 

"We've  just  got  time  to  make  it.  Your  bag  is  at 
the  station,  Ward?  All  right.  Go  up  and  get  your 
things,  Grace.  And  tell  Irene  to  hurry." 

Kemp  was  again  the  man  of  business,  his  preoccu- 
pation with  the  journey  already  showing  in  his  eyes. 


84  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

Irene  was  giving  the  last  touches  to  her  hair  when 
Grace  found  her. 

"Ready  in  just  a  minute,"  she  said.  "How  did  you 
get  on  with  good  old  Ward?" 

"He's  perfectly  lovely!  He's  the  most  interesting 
man  I  ever  met!" 

"That's  what  they  all  say.  Have  any  luck  vamp- 
ing him?" 

"Of  course  not,"  replied  Grace,  putting  on  her  hat. 
"You  couldn't  expect  me  to  make  a  hit  with  a  man 
like  that.  He's  too  big  and  much  too  wise." 

"Oh,  the  wiser  they  are  the  harder  they  fall!"  re- 
plied Irene  carelessly.  "It's  something  that  he  didn't 
leave  you  and  go  out  for  a  walk  all  by  his  lonesome. 
That's  the  way  he  treated  a  girl  I  wished  on  him  once. 
Actually,  my  dear,  walked  out  of  the  house  and  didn't 
come  back  till  Tommy  and  I  were  ready  to  go!  But 
she  got  soused,  the  little  fool.  I  guess  I  was  lit  up 
for  a  little  while  tonight  and  Tommy  certainly  was 
feeling  his  poison  when  Jerry  put  the  wine  away.  He's 
all  right  now.  It  hits  him  quick  and  then  it's  all  over." 

Jerry  appeared  to  bow  them  ceremoniously  into  the 
car.  On  the  way  into  town  they  talked  only  fitfully. 
When  the  men  spoke  it  was  to  discuss  the  business 
that  was  calling  them  to  St.  Louis. 

"I'm  going  to  Minne  Lawton's  for  the  night,  Grace," 
said  Irene.  "You'd  better  stop  there  with  me.  It's 
easier  doing  that  than  explaining  things  at  home. 
There  won't  be  time  for  you  to  stop  at  Minnie's  to 
change  your  things." 

Grace  had  considered  the  possible  embarrassment 
that  might  result  from  going  home  at  midnight  in  the 
new  gown.  She  meant  to  explain  that  she  had  changed 
before  leaving  the  store  and  had  gone  home  with  Irene 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  85 

after  the  French  lesson,  and  some  of  Irene's  friends 
had  dropped  in. 

"Don't  take  a  chance  of  being  scolded,"  remarked 
Kemp.  "You  know  your  family  and  I  suppose  you 
have  some  leeway.  I'd  hate  for  you  to  get  into  trou- 
ble." 

"Oh,  I'll  fix  everything  all  right.  It  isn't  so  awfully 
late.  I'll  be  home  by  twelve." 

They  dropped  Irene  at  Minnie's  and  then  swung 
westward.  Grace  indicated  a  point  a  block  from  home 
where  they  might  leave  her. 

"If  you  like  The  Shack  I  hope  you'll  come  again," 
said  Kemp.  "It's  been  fine  to  have  you  along." 

"We'll  meet  again,"  said  Trenton.  "We  didn't  set- 
tle much!  There'll  have  to  be  some  more  talks — many 
of  them  I  hope!" 

"I  hope  so  too!    Thank  you  both  ever  so  much." 

When  she  reached  the  Durland  gate  she  caught  a 
last  glimpse  of  the  tail  light  as  the  car  swung  south- 
ward round  the  park. 


CHAPTER  FIVE 
I 

SHE  turned  off  the  hall  light  at  the  switch  at  the 
head  of  the  stairs  and  gained  her  room  unchallenged. 
Usually  her  mother  waited  up  for  her,  and  Grace 
breathed  a  sigh  of  relief  to  find  her  door  closed.  She 
quickly  undressed,  hiding  the  new  suit  in  the  closet 
and  throwing  out  another  to  wear  to  work  in  the  morn- 
ing. 

She  lay  for  nearly  an  hour  thinking  over  the 
events  of  the  night  but  slept  at  last  the  sleep  of  weary 
youth  and  was  only  roused  by  the  importunate  alarm 
clock  at  six-thirty.  On  her  way  to  the  bathroom  for 
a  shower — the  shower  had  been  a  concession  to  her 
and  Roy — she  passed  Ethel  whose  good  morning  she 
thought  a  little  constrained.  As  she  dressed  she  re- 
hearsed the  story  she  meant  to  tell  to  account  for  her 
late  home-coming.  Something  would  be  said  about  it 
and  she  went  downstairs  whistling  to  fortify  herself 
for  the  ordeal.  Her  father  was  reading  the  morning 
paper  by  the  window  in  the  living  room  and  in  re- 
sponse to  her  inquiry  as  to  whether  there  was  any  news 
muttered  absently  that  there  was  nothing  in  par- 
ticular, the  remark  he  always  made  when  interrupted 
in  the  reading  of  his  paper. 

She  found  her  mother  and  sister  in  the  kitchen. 

"Good  morning,  Grace,"  said  Mrs.  Durland  pleas- 
antly. "We're  a  little  late,  so  you  might  set  the  table. 
Ethel  and  I  have  started  breakfast." 

Mrs.  Durland  usually  made  a  point  of  setting  the 

86 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  87 

breakfast  table  herself  and  Grace  wondered  whether 
this  delegation  of  the  task  might  not  mean  that  her 
mother  and  Ethel  wished  to  be  alone  to  discuss  just 
what  should  be  said  about  her  arrival  at  midnight 
when  they  had  every  reason  to  expect  her  home  from 
her  French  lesson  by  half-past  nine. 

When  they  were  established  at  the  table  Ethel 
praised  the  clear  bright  morning.  It  was  her  habit  to 
say  something  hopeful  and  cheering  at  the  breakfast 
table,  illuminated  at  times  by  an  appropriate  quota- 
tion. Mrs.  Durland  encouraged  this  practice  and  if 
Ethel  did  not  at  once  volunteer  her  contribution  to  the 
felicity  of  the  matutinal  meal,  would  ask: 

"Ethel,  haven't  you  some  word  for  us  this  morn- 
ing?" 

Ethel  had  offered  a  quotation  from  Emerson  and 
Grace  had  correctly  guessed  that  it  was  from  the  essay 
on  "Compensation"  when  Mrs.  Durland,  having  filled 
and  passed  the  coffee  cups,  glanced  at  Grace. 

"What  kept  you  so  late  last  night,  dear?"  she  asked 
in  the  kindest  of  tones.  "I  waited  up  till  eleven.  I 
didn't  hear  you  come  in.  You  must  have  been  very 
late." 

"Oh,  I  didn't  get  in  until  twelve.  After  the  lesson 
I  went  home  with  Irene  and  there  were  some  people 
there  and  we  just  talked  and  played  cards.  I  didn't 
know  the  time  was  passing  till  it  was  after  eleven." 

"That's  rather  strange,  dear.  They  didn't  know 
at  the  Kirby's  that  you  were  at  their  house." 

"Why  didn't  they  know?"  Grace  demanded. 

"Because  we  called  up!"  her  mother  answered. 
"John  Moore's  in  town  and  telephoned  about  eight 
o'clock  to  know  if  he  could  come  out.  Ethel  talked 
to  him." 

"He's  such  a  fine  fellow,"  said  Ethel.    "You  know 


88  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

mother  and  I  met  him  when  we  went  down  to  see  you 
at  the  University  last  spring.  He's  such  a  splendid 
type!" 

"The  kind  of  high-minded,  self-respecting  young 
man  we  like  to  have  you  know,  Grace,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Durland. 

"John's  a  dear,"  said  Grace  warmly.  "And  you  told 
him  to  go  to  Professor  Duroy's,  and  of  course  he 
didn't  find  me  there." 

"No;  and  he  called  a  second  time,  thinking  he  had 
misunderstood.  He  was  very  anxious  to  get  you  to 
go  with  him  to  the  football  game  tomorrow  and  was 
afraid  you  might  make  some  other  engagement.  It 
was  just  a  little  embarrassing  that  we  couldn't  tell 
him  where  you  were." 

"You  might  have  told  him  to  come  to  the  store  in 
the  morning,"  Grace  replied.  "Well,  I  guess  I  may 
as  well  make  a  clean  breast  of  it!  I  played  hooky! 
Irene  and  I  went  to  a  supper  party." 

"So  you  told  me  an  untruth!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Dur- 
land, staring  wide-eyed  at  the  culprit.  "Grace,  this 
isn't  like  you.  You  should  have  told  me  you  were 
not  going  to  Professor  Duroy's.  You  might  have 
saved  me  my  worry  last  night  when  you  were  so  late 
and  the  Kirbys  said  Irene  had  not  been  home  and  that 
she  told  her  family  she  was  spending  the  night  with  a 
friend." 

"Yes,  mamma:  I  shouldn't  have  told  you  a  fib.  I'm 
sorry.  It  was  a  dreadful  sin!" 

She  looked  from  one  to  the  other  smiling,  hoping 
to  dispel  the  gloom  that  seemed  to  hang  above  the 
table.  It  was  not  however  in  her  sister's  mind  to 
suffer  the  deception  to  pass  unrebuked. 

"You'll  tell  us,  I  suppose,  whom  you  had  supper 
with  besides  Irene?" 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  89 

Her  sister's  question  angered  Grace  the  more  by  rea- 
son of  the  tone  of  forbearance  in  which  it  was  uttered. 
She  would  tell  them  nothing.  A  crisis  had  risen  in  her 
relations  with  her  family  and  she  resolved  to  meet  it 
boldly. 

"I'll  not  answer  your  question,"  she  said,  addressing 
herself  directly  to  Ethel.  "It's  none  of  your  business 
where  I  go  or  what  I  do.  Ever  since  I  came  home  I've 
been  staying  in  at  night  except  when  I've  gone  to  a 
movie  with  father.  I'm  working  hard  every  day  to 
help  keep  things  going  here  at  home.  And  I  mean 
to  keep  on  doing  it;  but  I'm  not  a  child  and  I'm 
not  going  to  be  checked  up  for  every  hour  I'm  out 
of  your  sight." 

"Calm  yourself,  Grace.  Don't  say  anything  you'll 
be  sorry  for!"  admonished  Mrs.  Durland. 

"After  I'd  warned  you  about  the  Kirby  girl — " 
began  Ethel  with  the  serene  patience  due  an  erring 
child  who  may  yet  be  saved  from  further  misde- 
meanors. 

"Oh,  you  warned  me  all  right  enough!"  Grace  in- 
terrupted. "You've  done  a  lot  to  make  things  pleas- 
ant for  me  since  I  came  home!  When  I  asked  those 
girls  here  to  the  house  you  made  everything  as  dis- 
agreeable as  possible.  You  shied  from  a  harmless 
ouija  board!  And  now  if  I  go  out  for  an  evening 
you're  terribly  shocked  because  I  lie  about  it  and 
refuse  to  tell  you  exactly  where  I've  been!  But  I  do 
refuse!  I'm  never  going  to  tell  you  anything!  The 
sooner  you  understand  that,  Ethel  Durland,  the  sooner 
we'll  have  peace  in  this  house." 

Her  eyes  were  bright  with  tears  but  she  held  her 
head  high.  In  so  far  as  she  reasoned  at  all  in  her 
anger  she  was  satisfied  that  justice  was  on  her  side. 
She  was  of  age,  she  was  self-supporting,  she  was  bear- 


90  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

ing  her  full  share  of  the  family  expenses,  and  she 
meant  to  establish  once  and  for  all  her  right  to  free- 
dom. 

"I  hadn't  expected  you  to  take  the  matter  in  this 
spirit,"  said  Mrs.  Durland.  "It  isn't  like  you,  Grace. 
We  want  the  very  best  for  you.  We  want  you  to 
have  your  friends  and  to  enjoy  yourself.  And  be 
sure  we  all  appreciate  the  fine  way  you  met  your 
disappointment  at  being  obliged  to  give  up  college. 
But  you  know  we  owe  it  to  you,  dear,  to  protect  you 
in  every  way  possible.  There  are  so  many  perils 
these  days." 

"Not  only  here,  but  everywhere  through  the  coun- 
try, the  moral  conditions  are  terrible,"  said  Ethel 
plaintively.  "A  young  girl  can't  be  too  careful." 

"Well,  if  I'm  wicked  your  goodness  more  than 
makes  up  for  it,"  Grace  flashed  back;  and  then,  her 
anger  mounting,  "Why  do  you  assume  that  I've  been 
wicked?  Are  you  going  to  take  my  character  away 
from  me  right  here  at  home?  If  I've  got  to  live  here 
in  an  atmosphere  of  suspicion  I'll  leave.  I  can  easily 
find  another  boarding  place  where  I  won't  be  pecked 
at  all  the  time." 

"You  wouldn't  think  of  doing  that!"  cried  her 
mother  aghast.  "This  is  your  home,  dear;  it  will 
always  be  your  home.  We  should  be  so  grateful  that 
we've  been  able  to  keep  the  dear  old  place." 

"Well,  you're  making  me  think  of  itl  If  I  go 
you'll  be  driving  me  outl" 

"No  one  has  any  intention  of  driving  you  from 
home,"  said  Ethel.  "We  want  to  guard  you  with 
our  faith  and  love." 

"Your  faith!"  Grace  laughed  ironically. 

"Of  course  we  have  all  the  faith  in  the  world  in 
you!"  declared  Mrs.  Durland. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  91 

Stephen  Durland,  who  had  remained  silent  during 
this  discussion,  was  now  folding  his  napkin.  He 
cleared  his  throat,  glanced  from  his  wife  to  his  daugh- 
ters and  back  to  his  wife. 

"Seems  to  me  this  has  gone  far  enough,  Alicia. 
There's  no  use  acting  as  though  Grace  had  done  any- 
thing wrong." 

"Of  course  we  didn't  mean  that,  Stephen,"  said 
Mrs.  Durland  quickly.  "It  was  only " 

The  fact  that  Durland  so  rarely  expressed  an  opin- 
ion on  any  matter  pertaining  to  family  affairs  had 
so  surprised  her  that  she  found  herself  unequal  to 
the  task  of  completing  her  sentence. 

"I  guess  it's  a  good  place  to  let  the  matter  drop," 
he  said.  "The  way  to  show  Grace  we  trust  her  is  to 
trust  her.  Twelve  o'clock  is  not  late.  I  heard  Grace 
when  she  came  in.  I  don't  blame  her  for  not  answer- 
ing questions  when  she's  jumped  on.  Don't  nag 
Grace.  Grace  is  all  right." 

This  was  the  longest  speech  Stephen  Durland  had 
delivered  in  a  family  council  for  years.  He  rose, 
paused  to  drain  the  glass  of  water  at  his  plate  and  left 
the  room.  A  moment  later  the  front  door  closed  very 
softly.  The  gentleness  with  which  it  closed  had  curi- 
ously the  effect  of  an  emphasis  upon  his  last  words. 
They  waited  to  give  him  time  to  reach  the  gate.  Hav- 
ing broken  one  precedent  he  might  break  another; 
he  might  come  back.  He  had  even  addressed  his 
wife  as  Alicia  instead  of  the  familiar  Allie — a  radi- 
cal and  disconcerting  departure. 

"We  may  as  well  clear  the  table,"  said  Mrs.  Dur- 
land, when  a  full  minute  had  passed.  Grace  assisted 
in  the  clearing  up.  All  the  processes  of  this  labor 
were  executed  in  silence  save  for  an  occasional  deep 
sigh  from  Mrs.  Durland.  When  the  dishes  had  been 


92  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

washed  and  put  away  in  the  pantry  Grace  hung  up 
her  apron  and  went  to  her  room.  She  made  her  bed 
and  straightened  up  her  dressing  table  and  had  put 
on  her  hat  and  coat  when  Ethel  appeared  in  the 
door. 

"Grace,  I  want  you  to  know  how  sorry  I  am  if  I 
said  anything  to  hurt  you.  You  know  that  not  for 
worlds  would  I  be  unkind  or  unjust  to  my  own  sis- 
ter." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,  Ethel;  just  forget  it,"  Grace 
replied  indifferently. 

She  bade  her  mother  good-bye  with  all  the  cheer 
she  could  muster. 

"Good-bye,  Grace,"  called  Mrs.  Durland  from  the 
window  where  she  was  scanning  the  newspaper.  "I 
hope  you'll  have  a  good  day." 

"Thank  you,  mother." 

II 

As  the  trolley  bore  her  townward  she  decided  that 
all  things  considered  she  had  come  off  fairly  well 
in  the  encounter;  but  she  was  not  jubilant.  She  had 
probably  established  her  right  to  go  and  come  as 
she  pleased,  but  the  victory  brought  her  no  happi- 
ness. Ethel's  conciliatory  words  meant  nothing;  it 
was  her  sister's  way  to  manifest  forbearance  and 
tolerance,  to  smoothe  things  over  when  there  had  been 
a  clash  between  them.  Grace  had  for  her  mother 
a  real  affection,  sincerely  admiring  the  effort  she 
made  to  keep  in  touch  with  the  best  thought  of  the 
world — a  pet  phrase  of  Mrs.  Durland's.  Mrs.  Dur- 
land was  kind,  unselfish,  well-meaning.  She  meant 
to  live  up  to  her  ideal  of  motherhood.  It  was 
despicable  to  lie  to  her.  Grace's  conscience  was  now 


93 

busy  tearing  down  the  defenses  behind  which  she  had 
excused  herself  for  going  to  Kemp's  party.  Any 
uncertainty  as  to  Irene's  relations  with  the  manufac- 
turer were  dispelled  by  the  visit  to  The  Shack.  The 
fact  that  Kemp's  money  made  it  possible  to  surround 
the  relationship  with  a  degree  of  glamour  did  not 
mitigate  the  ugly  fact.  It  might  be  that  the  people 
who  talked  so  dolefully  of  the  new  generation  and 
the  low  ebb  to  which  old  fashioned  morals  had  sunk 
were  right.  Irene's  affair  with  Kemp  presented  a 
situation  which,  if  greatly  multiplied,  would  mean 
the  destruction  of  all  that  made  womanhood  precious. 

Could  she,  Grace  Durland,  ever  be  like  that?  What 
was  to  prevent  her  from  doing  exactly  what  Irene 
was  doing  or  falling  even  lower?  Nothing,  she  pon- 
dered, but  her  own  will  and  innate  sense  of  righteous- 
ness. She  would  have  no  excuse  for  following  Irene's 
example.  The  home  she  had  just  left  really  stood 
for  all  those  things  she  had  been  taught  to  believe 
were  essential  to  right  living.  Her  mother,  with  all 
her  failings  and  weaknesses,  had  labored  hard  to  im- 
plant in  her  children  the  principles  of  honor  and  recti- 
tude. And  her  father,  pitiful  figure  though  he  was, 
was  a  man  of  ideals  and  a  pattern  cf  morality.  He 
believed  in  her;  he  was  her  friend  and  it  would  be 
shameful  to  do  aught  to  bring  disgrace  upon  him. 
And  with  an  accession  of  generosity  as  she  pondered, 
Grace  saw  Ethel,  too,  in  a  different  light.  With  all 
her  offensive  assumption  of  saintly  airs  Ethel's  ideas 
of  human  conduct  were  sound.  Ethel  was  a  disagree- 
able person  to  live  with,  but  nevertheless  she  was 
not  always  wrong.  She  had  indubitably  been  right 
about  Irene  Kirby. 

As  Grace  left  the  car  she  saw  by  a  street  clock 
that  she  still  had  ten  minutes  in  which  to  report  at 


94  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

the  store  and  she  loitered,  eager  to  remain  in  the  open 
as  long  as  possible.  And  she  rather  dreaded  meeting 
Irene. 


Ill 


Happily  for  her  peace  of  mind  the  day  opened 
briskly.  She  had  disposed  of  a  rapid  succession  of 
customers  before  Irene,  who  had  arrived  late,  passed 
her  in  the  salesroom  with  a  careless  nod  and  smile. 
At  half-past  nine  Grace  espied  John  Moore,  the  un- 
witting cause  of  the  exposure  of  her  truancy  from 
the  French  class,  standing  in  the  entrance.  So  many 
other  thoughts  had  filled  her  mind  since  she  left 
the  breakfast  table  that  she  had  forgotten  about 
Moore  and  the  football  game.  She  was  carrying  a 
gown  she  "had  just  sold  flung  over  her  arm  when  the 
sight  of  the  young  man,  who  was  clearly  dismayed 
by  the  unfamiliar  scene,  brought  a  smile  to  her  face. 
He  sprang  forward  beaming  when  he  caught  sight 
of  her. 

"I  was  just  about  to  run;  I'm  scared  to  death!" 
he  exclaimed. 

In  his  joy  at  finding  her  he  dropped  his  hat  as  he 
grasped  her  hand.  He  was  big  of  frame  but  trained 
fine,  and  the  deep  tan  of  his  summer  on  a  Kansas 
farm  had  not  yet  worn  off.  His  gray  suit  was  only 
saved  from  shabbiness  by  a  recent  careful  pressing. 
His  lean  cheeks  were  neatly  shaven  and  his  thick 
brown  hair  was  evenly  parted  and  smoothly  brushed, 
though  a  wisp  of  it  persisted  in  slipping  down  over 
his  forehead.  Twenty-seven  or  thereabouts,  John 
Barton  Moore — as  he  was  written  on  the  university 
books — seemed  older  with  the  maturity  of  one  who 
begins  early  to  plan  and  fashion  his  life. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  95 

"I'm  awfully  glad  to  see  you,  John!"  she  cried. 
"Up  for  the  game,  of  course!  I  was  terribly  sorry  not 
to  be  home  when  you  called.  The  trouble  was  that 
I  cut  my  French  lesson  at  the  last  minute  to  go  to 
a  party." 

"Perfectly  all  right,  Grace.  I  ought  to  have  writ- 
ten you  a  note  to  say  I  was  coming  up." 

He  glanced  about  anxiously.  "Am  I  blocking  the 
wheels  of  commerce?"  he  asked  with  the  drawl  that 
proclaimed  him  one  of  those  children  of  Indiana 
whose  ancestors  reached  the  Wabash  country  by  way 
of  North  Carolina  and  Kentucky. 

"Nothing  like  that!  Just  a  minute  till  I  send  this 
dress  to  be  packed." 

She  motioned  him  to  a  chair  but  he  remained  stand- 
ing like  a  soldier  at  attention  till  she  came  back. 

"Now  then!    Let's  proceed  to  business." 

"Well,  I.  U.  needs  all  her  children  to  root  this 
afternoon,  though  I  think  we're  going  to  win.  And 
you've  got  to  go.  Got  good  seats  and  everything's 
all  set." 

"Why,  John,  I'm  afraid  I  can't  go.  Saturdays  are 
busy  days  here.  I  don't  like  to  ask  to  get  off." 

"Oh,  you  can  fix  it  somehow.  And  besides  I  want 
to  talk.  I've  got  about  a  million  things  to  tell  you. 
You  left  in  such  a  hurry  I  didn't  know  you  were  gone 
till  Roy  told  me  the  next  day.  I've  certainly  missed 
our  talks." 

"Well,  we'll  have  some  more;  I'm  starving  for  a 
talk  with  you!" 

"Well,  this  is  a  fearsome  place  and  I  mustn't  keep 
you.  So  please  see  your  boss  and  tell  him  or  her  this 
is  a  matter  of  life  and  death." 

At  this  moment  Irene  swept  by  with  a  valued 
customer  and  Grace  appealed  to  her. 


96  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

"Miss  Kirby,  Mr.  Moore.  Irene,  Mr.  Moore  is  an 
old  friend  of  mine  from  I.  U.  and  he  wants  me  to 
go  to  the  game.  Would  I  be  shot  if  I  asked  to  get 
off?" 

Irene  surveyed  Moore  carefully  and  weighed  the 
question  for  an  instant. 

"What  do  I  get  if  I  fix  it?"  she  asked,  giving  the 
young  man  the  benefit  of  her  handsome  eyes. 

"I  might  offer  a  bushel  of  hickory-nuts,"  said 
Moore.  "I  counted  a  lot  on  seeing  the  game  with 
Grace." 

"I  think,"  said  Irene  with  mock  gravity,  "I  think 
it  can  be  arranged.  Miss  Boardman  sent  word  this 
morning  that  she's  ill  and  won't  be  down,  so  I'm  in 
charge.  We're  likely  to  have  a  busy  afternoon,  but 
you  run  along,  Grace." 

"Well,  that's  mighty  nice  of  you,  Miss  Kirby";  and 
Moore  thrust  out  his  hand.  It  was  evidently  his  habit 
to  express  all  manner  of  emotion  with  a  handshake. 
He  was  regarding  Irene  with  a  frank  curiosity  mani- 
fest in  his  steady  gray  eyes.  The  grand  manner  of 
the  Irenes  of  the  world,  one  would  have  assumed,  was 
new  to  him. 

"I  wish  you  could  go  along  too,"  he  said.  "It's 
likely  to  be  a  lively  scrap.  If  you  say  the  word,  Miss 
Kirby,  I'll  get  another  seat  right  away." 

"Oh,  thank  you  so  much!  But  with  Miss  Board- 
man away  it  can't  be  done.  It's  nice  of  you  to  ask 
me  though." 

If  she  was  to  him  a  puzzling  type,  alien  to  all  his 
experience,  he  was  equally  of  an  unfamiliar  species 
to  her.  Grace  noted  with  secret  amusement  the  in; 
terest  they  apparently  awakened  in  each  other. 

"Excuse  me;  I  must  run  along,"  said  Irene.  "Have 
a  good  time! "  She  left  them  with  her  queenliest  air. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  97 

"I  told  you  it  could  be  fixed  all  right,"  said  Moore. 
"Fine  girl;  Miss  Kirby." 

"It  was  mighty  nice  of  her  to  do  it.  I'd  hardly 
have  had  the  nerve  to  tackle  Miss  Boardman." 

"Well,  I  mustn't  keep  you.  There's  lots  of  folks 
on  the  streets.  Looks  like  the  whole  of  the  grand  old 
Hoosier  State  was  in  town.  Where  can  I  meet  you?" 

"At  the  main  entrance  of  this  emporium  at  one 
o'clock.  You  get  your  lunch  first  and  I'll  snatch 
something  in  the  tea  room.  We'll  want  to  get  out 
early  to  see  the  crowd  gather.  I'm  that  thrilled, 
John!" 

Grace  greeted  her  next  customer  with  a  smile  that 
was  not  wholly  inspired  by  the  hope  of  making  a  sub- 
stantial sale.  John  had  been  one  of  her  best  friends 
at  the  university,  where  everyone  knew  and  liked  him. 
Even  the  governor  of  the  State  knew  Moore  and  re- 
ferred to  him  indirectly  in  public  addresses  as  a  justi- 
fication for  taxing  the  people  to  place  higher  educa- 
tion within  reach  of  the  humblest. 

Moore  was  born  on  a  farm  and  his  parents  dying 
just  as  he  finished  the  common  schools,  he  had  worked 
his  way  through  college,  doing  chores  during  the 
school  terms  and  spending  his  vacations  on  farms 
wherever  employment  offered.  In  like  fashion  he  was 
now  plodding  his  way  through  the  law  school.  His 
good  humor  was  unfailing  and  his  drolleries  were 
much  quoted  in  the  university  town.  When  urged  in 
his  undergraduate  days  to  take  up  football  he  pleaded 
important  engagements,  not  scrupling  to  explain  that 
they  were  the  most  solemn  pledges  to  saw  wood  or 
cut  grass  for  his  clients  or  drive  the  truck  on  Satur- 
days for  a  grocer.  He  called  his  employers  his  noble 
patrons  and  praised  them  for  their  consideration  and 
generosity.  He  enjoyed  music,  and  possessing  a  good 


98  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

baritone  voice  he  had  been  enrolled  in  the  glee  club. 
He  never  had  danced  until,  in  his  senior  year,  a  num- 
ber of  co-eds  conspired  to  instruct  him.  He  was  the 
star  performer  of  the  debating  society  and  had  sev- 
eral times  represented  the  university  in  the  contests 
of  the  Inter-State  Association. 

Though  she  had  so  quickly  overcome  her  disappoint- 
ment at  leaving  the  University,  Grace  found  that  the 
sight  of  Moore  awoke  in  her  a  keen  regret  that  her  col- 
lege days  were  over.  She  was  far  less  sure  of  herself 
than  she  had  been  before  her  evening  at  The  Shack. 
She  clutched  at  memories  of  her  happy  care-free  yes- 
terdays. A  band  in  the  street  was  playing  the  air  of  the 
college  song,  which  was  punctuated  by  the  familiar 
yell  from  the  throats  of  a  mighty  phalanx  of  under- 
graduates. Young  women  from  all  the  state  colleges 
were  coming  into  the  store  for  hurried  purchases.  Two 
members  of  her  sorority,  girls  she  had  lived  with  for 
two  years,  dropped  in  to  see  her — cheery,  hopeful 
young  women,  eagerly  flinging  at  her  scraps  of  col- 
lege news  and  giving  a  sharper  edge  to  her  homesick- 
ness for  the  campus  and  all  it  connoted.  She  was 
beset  with  serious  doubts  as  to  her  fitness  to  meet 
the  problems  of  life;  the  conceit  was  gone  out  of  her. 
She  recalled  what  a  lecturer  had  once  said  at  a  stu- 
dent's convocation,  that  the  great  commonwealth  of 
Indiana  stood  behind  them,  eager  to  serve  them,  to 
put  them  in  the  way  of  realizing  the  abundant  prom- 
ise of  life.  In  her  mood  of  contrition  she  reflected 
that  not  only  had  the  arm  of  the  State  been  with- 
drawn, but  that  she  had  gone  far  toward  estranging 
those  to  whom  she  was  bound  by  the  closest  ties,  who 
had  every  right  to  expect  the  best  of  her.  If  it  had 
been  in  her  power  she  would  have  elected  to  join  the 
throng  of  young  men  and  women  who,  victor  or  van- 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  99 

quished,  would  go  back  to  the  university  that  night 
singing  songs  which  echoed  in  her  memory  now  and 
made  a  continuing  little  ache  in  her  heart. 

Moore's  pride  in  her  was  manifest  as  he  hung  to 
a  strap  and  bent  over  her  in  the  crowded  street  car 
on  the  way  to  the  battlefield.  Grace  was  a  pretty 
girl,  and  John  was  not  unmindful  of  the  fact  that  she 
attracted  attention.  He  talked  steadily — of  univer- 
sity affairs,  of  their  friends  among  the  students. 

"Did  Roy  come  up?"  she  asked. 

"I  haven't  seen  him.  He  may  have  come  up  with 
the  bunch  this  morning.  But  you  might  overlook  the 
king  of  England  in  this  crowd." 

"Roy's  not  terribly  enthusiastic  about  the  law,"  she 
suggested  leadingly. 

"Well,  maybe  not  just  what  you'll  call  crazy  about 
it;  but  he'll  come  along  all  right.  There's  good  stuff 
in  Roy." 

Moore  was  usually  so  candid  that  his  equivocal  an- 
swer did  not  escape  her.  Grace  had  the  greatest 
misgivings  as  to  her  brother's  future.  He  had  wanted 
to  leave  the  university  when  she  was  summoned  home. 
He  had  won  his  A.  B.  by  the  narrowest  margin  and 
had  gone  into  the  law  school  only  because  of  his  moth- 
er's obsession  that  he  was  destined  to  a  career  similar 
to  that  of  her  father  and  grandfather,  whose  attain- 
ments at  the  bar  and  services  to  the  State  provided 
what  Mrs.  Durland  called  a  background  for  her 
children. 


IV 


Arriving  early  at  the  ball  park  they  found  their 
seats  and  John  continued  talking  as  the  crowd  as- 


100  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

sembled.  On  many  Sunday  afternoons  they  had  taken 
long  tramps,  discussing  all  manner  of  things.  Moore 
was  a  prodigious  reader  of  poetry  and  made  it  his 
practice  to  commit  to  memory  a  certain  number  of 
lines  every  day.  Politics,  too,  interested  him  seri- 
ously. He  always  spoke  with  deepest  reverence  of  the 
founders  of  the  republic,  referring  to  them  familiarly 
as  though  they  were  still  living.  Between  the  cheers 
to  which  he  vociferously  contributed  his  own  voice, 
he  rambled  on  comfortably  and  happily,  satisfied  that 
he  had  a  sympathetic  auditor. 

"There's  Bill  Trumbull— hello  there,  Bill!  Well, 
to  tell  the  truth,  Grace,  I  don't  get  much  out  of  this 
new  poetry.  Flimsy  stuff;  doesn't  satisfy  you  some- 
how. The  times  call  for  another  old  Walt  Whit- 
man. That  bird  had  ideas.  He  certainly  hit  some 
grand  old  truths.  'Produce  great  men,'  he  says; 
'the  rest  follows.'  Just  as  easy!  Wow!  There's 
our  team  coming  out  now!"  (prolonged  cheer- 
ing) "Well,  there's  the  old  saying  that  the  time  brings 
the  man.  Can't  tell  but  there's  a  future  president 
right  here  in  this  crowd!" 

"It  might  be  you,  John!"  remarked  Grace,  laugh- 
ing at  the  serenity  with  which  he  returned  to  his 
subject  after  joining  in  the  uproar. 

"No,  Grace;  I've  chosen  the  chief  justiceship!"  he 
said,  swinging  round  at  her.  "Isn't  that  Daisy  Mar- 
tin?— Fred  Ragsdale  with  her.  Hello,  Fred!  and  if, 
there  aint  old  Pop  Streeter!  Greetings  Pop!  No,  sir; 
the  times  call  for  men  and  we're  going  to  produce  a 
fine  new  crop  right  out  of  this  generation  here  pres- 
ent." 

Moore  was  enjoying  himself;  there  was  no  question 
of  it.  And  Grace  was  experiencing  a  grateful  sense 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  101 

of  security  in  John's  company.  He  was  paying  her 
his  highest  compliment,  and  she  knew  that  the  money 
for  his  excursion  to  the  capital  had  been  earned  by 
his  own  labor.  Her  girl  friends  at  the  university  had 
tormented  her  a  good  deal  about  John's  attentions, 
which  were  marked  by  the  shy  deference  and  instinc- 
tive courtesy  with  which  he  treated  all  women.  He 
was  not  a  person  to  be  flirted  with;  Grace  had  never 
in  the  prevalent  phrase  "teased  him  along."  She  re- 
spected him  too  much  for  that,  and,  moreover,  he  was 
not  fair  game.  Any  attempt  to  practice  on  him  the 
usual  cajoleries  and  coquetries  would  have  sent  him 
away  running.  When  a  girl  visitor  at  the  university, 
meeting  John  at  a  dance,  had  referred  to  him  as  a 
hick,  Grace  had  resented  it  on  the  spot,  informing 
the  surprised  offender  that  John  Moore  was  the  finest 
gentleman  on  the  campus. 

John  was  not  wholly  silenced  by  the  spirited  open- 
ing of  the  game. 

"Too  bad  Crump's  not  here.  Hurt  his  leg  last 
week  in  practice.  Thought  he'd  make  it.  Break  his 
heart  not  to  be  in  the  game.  Thompson  in  his  place. 
You  know  Thompy?  He's  a  wonder  on  the  trap 
drum.  Wow!  Illinois  got  the  ball.  Where  was  I? 
Oh,  yes!  I  read  Landor  last  summer — Walter  Sav- 
age; a  theological  student  from  New  York,  working 
along  with  me  out  in  Kansas,  put  me  on  to  Landor. 
Quite  a  man — Landor,  I  mean.  The  theolog's  a  bully 
chap,  too,  for  that  matter.  Look  at  that!  No;  send- 
ing 'em  back.  Wow!  That's  first  blood  for  us!  Well, 
you  might  like  Landor  if  you  took  a  whack  at  him. 
That  referee's  awful  fussy.  Wonder  where  they  got 
him.  Remember  that  day  we  read  'The  Passing  of 
Arthur,'  sitting  on  a  log  by  that  gay  little  creek  in 
the  woods?  I've  thought  a  lot  about  that  and  the  way 


102  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

you  cried.    Yes;  you  did,  Grace;  and  I  guess  I  shed 
a  few  tears  myself!     .     .     ." 

In  moments  of  despair  when  Indiana's  fortunes 
were  low,  John's  optimism  evoked  laughter  from  his 
neighbors,  for  he  possessed  in  good  measure  the 
homely  humor  which  is  indigenous  to  the  corn  belt. 

Before  the  game  ended  it  had  occurred  to  Grace 
to  ask  John  to  go  home  with  her  for  supper.  After 
they  had  joined  in  the  demonstration  for  the  victori- 
ous Hoosier  team  and  had  made  their  way  to  the 
street  she  went  into  a  drugstore  and  called  her  mother 
on  the  telephone.  Mrs.  Durland  replied  cordially 
that  she  would  be  delighted  to  see  John;  it  was  too 
late  to  put  on  any  extras  but  any  friend  of  Grace's  was 
always  welcome.  It  would  serve  to  ease  the  situation 
she  had  left  behind  her  to  take  John  home,  Grace  re- 
flected, and  moreover,  she  was  glad  of  an  excuse  for 
seeing  more  of  him. 

"Of  course  I'll  be  glad  to  break  bread  with  you. 
I'll  be  glad  to  see  your  folks  again.  If  you're  not 
too  tired,  let's  walk.  Fine  zippy  air!  Well,  that  was 
sure  some  game!  I  nearly  died  an  unnatural  death 
about  seven  times  in  the  last  quarter,  but  we  man- 
aged to  pull  through.  Let's  see,  what  were  we  talking 
about?" 

He  let  her  into  a  great  secret  as  they  crossed  the 
park  toward  the  Durland  house.  He  had  seen  Judge 
Sanders,  the  senior  member  of  one  of  the  best  law 
firms  in  the  capital  and  a  university  trustee,  who  had 
offered  to  take  him  into  his  office. 

"Wants  me  to  come  in  January,"  John  explained. 
"Says  they'll  guarantee  my  board  and  keep  for  run- 
ning errands  and  attending  to  collections;  and  I  can 
go  on  studying  and  be  ready  for  my  exams  in  the 
spring  just  the  same.  So  I'll  be  in  the  city  for  keeps 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  103 

after  Christmas.  Grand  man,  the  Judge.  Found  I 
was  washing  automobiles  at  night  to  pay  for  my  room 
over  Westlake's  garage  and  he  just  couldn't  stand 
it.  There's  a  friend,  I  say!" 

He  waited  for  her  to  laugh  and  laughed  with 
her.  It  was  enormously  funny  that  among  other 
jobs  he  washed  automobiles  on  his  way  to  the  chief 
justiceship! 

"Nothing  can  keep  you  back,  John.  You're  like 
the  men  we  read  about,  who  strike  right  out  for  the 
top  and  get  there  and  plant  their  flag  on  the  battle- 
ments." 

"Don't  say  a  word!  There's  luck  as  well  as  hard 
work  in  this  business  of  getting  on.  All  summer  I 
used  to  think  about  it — out  in  the  fields  in  Kansas. 
A  big,  hot  harvest  field's  a  grand  place  for  healthy 
thought.  I  say,  Grace,  life's  a  lot  more  complicated 
than  it  used  to  be.  Things  all  sort  o'  mixed  up  since 
the  war." 

"You  really  believe  the  world's  so  different,  John? 
Everybody's  saying  that  and  the  papers  and  maga- 
zines are  full  of  stuff  about  the  changes  and  knocking 
our  generation." 

"Don't  let  that  talk  throw  you!  It's  up  to  all 
of  us  to  sit  tight  on  the  toboggan  and  wait  till  she 
slows  down.  There's  a  lot  of  good  in  this  grand  old 
world  yet.  By  the  way,  it  was  hard  luck  you  had 
to  quit  college.  Excuse  me  for  mentioning  it,  but 
I  just  wanted  you  to  know  I  was  sorry  you  left." 

"Oh,  it's  all  right,  John.  I  miss  the  good  times  but 
there's  no  use  crying.  I'm  ashamed  now,  though,  to 
think  how  I  just  fooled  along.  I  ought  to  have  got 
more  out  of  it  than  I  did." 

"You  don't  know  how  much  you  got,"  he  replied 
quickly.  "Kind  of  a  mystery  what  we  get  and  what 


104  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

we  don't.  We  got  to  keep  braced  for  anything  we 
bump  into.  When  the  war  came  along  I  thought  that 
was  the  end  of  me  so  far  as  going  into  the  law  was 
concerned,  but  being  shot  at  by  the  Kaiser  sort  o' 
made  me  mad.  I  wasn't  going  to  let  a  little  thing  like 
that  stop  me;  so  my  life  being  providentially  spared, 
I  thought  it  all  out  on  the  ship  coming  home — on  the 
deck  at  night  with  the  stars  blinking  at  me.  I've  got 
health  and  a  fair  second-rate  head  and  I'm  going  to 
give  the  world  a  good  wrestle  before  I  quit." 

"Fine!"  she  exclaimed,  noting  the  lifting  of  his 
head  as  he  swung  along  in  the  gathering  dusk.  "You 
make  me  ashamed  of  myself,  John.  I  think  I've 
begun  to  drift — I  don't  know  what  I'm  headed  for." 

"We  all  think  we're  drifting  when  we're  not!"  It's 
in  the  back  of  our  minds  all  the  time  that  we're  aim- 
ing for  something,"  he  replied;  "we  don't  fool  our- 
selves there!" 

"I  hope  you're  right,"  she  said,  pensively.  "But  I've 
wondered  a  lot  lately  about  myself.  Do  you  suppose 
there's  anything  wrong  with  me — lack  of  ambition, 
maybe?" 

He  paused  abruptly  the  more  emphatically  to  dis- 
pose of  her  question,  which  had  a  deeper  meaning 
than  he  knew. 

"Don't  be  foolish,  Grace!  You  could  keep  up  your 
college  work  if  you  wanted  to — there's  a  way  of  do- 
ing that,  and  get  your  degree.  Suppose  you  thought 
of  that — and  teaching?" 

"Yes.  But  I  don't  feel  any  strong  pull  that  way. 
I'm  in  a  French  class  and  I  mean  to  keep  that  up. 
But  before  I  was  off  the  campus  I  was  all  keyed  up 
to  jump  right  into  things.  I  want  experiences — not 
teaching  or  anything  like  that — but  to  be  as  close  to 
the  heart  of  things  as  I  can  get!" 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  105 

"Not  a  bit  of  fault  with  that!  I'd  trust  you  to 
find  yourself  anywhere.  You're  too  fine  a  girl  ever 
to  get  lost  in  the  shuffle.  I  guess  you'll  learn  a  lot 
in  Shipley's;  you  see  all  kinds  of  people  there  every 
day,  and  as  Aleck  Pope  says  the  proper  study  of  man- 
kind is  man — also  woman!" 

In  spite  of  herself  the  unhappiness  with  which  the 
day  had  begun  had  stolen  into  her  heart  again.  It 
had  betrayed  itself  in  her  speech,  the  eagerness  with 
which  she  appealed  to  Moore  for  approval  and  sym- 
pathy. She  was  contrasting  what  he  was  saying  with 
what  Trenton  had  said  the  previous  night.  No  two 
men  could  be  more  unlike — Trenton  the  man  of  the 
world,  with  a  hint  of  cynicism  in  his  attitude  toward 
life;  John  Moore,  a  son  of  the  soil,  with  all  his  ideals 
intact,  viewing  life  with  hope  and  confidence. 


Grace  had  not  been  mistaken  in  thinking  that  John's 
presence  would  exert  a  cheering  influence  on  the 
household.  It  was  clearly  written  in  the  faces  of 
Mrs.  Durland  and  Ethel  that  they  believed  Grace  was 
not  beyond  redemption  so  long  as  she  was  capable 
of  appreciating  the  sterling  worth  of  a  high  minded 
and  ambitious  young  man  like  Moore.  John  was  not 
without  a  sense  of  the  fitness  of  things.  When  Mrs. 
Durland  and  Ethel  showed  a  disposition  to  maintain 
the  conversation  on  lofty  heights  John  indulged  them 
for  a  time  and  then  concentrated  upon  Stephen 
Durland.  Farm  machinery  seemed  to  John  a  sub- 
ject likely  to  interest  the  silent  head  of  the  house. 
Durland  was  soon  painstakingly  answering  Moore's 
questions  as  to  the  possibility  of  further  reducing 
the  man  power  required  in  crop  production. 


106  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

"I've  hopped  the  clods  since  I  could  reach  a  plow 
handle,"  said  John,  "  and  it  does  seem  to  me  that  with 
the  tractor  coming  in " 

Durland  delivered  what  amounted  to  a  condensed 
lecture  on  the  subject,  spurred  on  by  John's  sincere 
interest  and  practical  questions. 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Durland.  I've  been  wanting  to 
get  an  expert  opinion  on  those  points  for  a  long  time. 
I  tell  you,"  he  said  glancing  round  at  the  others,  "it 
does  tickle  me  to  run  into  a  man  who  really  knows" 

"Father's  an  authority  on  those  things,"  said  Grace 
proudly.  "He  reads  everything  that's  written  on  me- 
chanics." 

"Stephen  ought  to  know!"  remarked  Mrs.  Durland 
with  a  sigh  which  Grace  translated  as  signifying  that 
it  was  too  bad  that  his  knowing  really  profited  him 
so  little. 

"We're  so  sorry,"  said  Mrs.  Durland,  when  the 
cold  ham,  baked  potatoes  and  canned  peas  had  re- 
ceived attention  and  Ethel  brought  in  a  bread  pudding 
— "it's  a  great  grief  to  all  of  us  that  Grace  had  to  leave 
college.  It  meant  so  much  to  her.  But  her  spirit 
about  it  all  has  been  fine." 

"Well,"  remarked  John,  after  he  had  met  Ethel's 
apology  for  the  pudding  with  the  assurance  that  it 
was  his  favorite  of  all  desserts — "Well,  I'm  not  sure 
it  isn't  a  good  thing  for  Grace  to  go  into  business 
for  awhile.  I  argue  that  things  somehow  work  out  for 
good  in  the  long  run.  Her  English  and  the  sociology 
courses  were  what  interested  her  most;  and  being  in 
a  big  place  like  Shipley's  and  running  into  all  sorts 
and  conditions  of  folks  the  way  she's  got  to  is  bound  to 
have  a  broadening  effect.  It's  right  along  the  line 
of  things  she's  keenest  about." 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  107 

"But,  Mr.  Moore,  what  we  don't  like  is  the  unfor- 
tunate contacts  with  people  who  may  not  be — wholly 
desirable  acquaintances,"  suggested  Ethel. 

Grace  frowned.  It  was  ungracious  of  Ethel  to 
draw  John  into  the  discussion  of  a  subject  that  had 
been  a  matter  of  contention  in  the  family.  But  John, 
having  convinced  Mrs.  Durland  of  his  appreciation 
of  her  hospitality  by  accepting  a  second  helping  of 
the  pudding,  met  the  situation  promptly. 

"Well,  now  Miss  Durland,  who's  going  to  draw 
the  line  between  the  desirable  and  undesirable?  Now 
I'm  not  saying  that  we  haven't  a  right  to  choose  our 
friends;  but  for  me,  I  like  all  kinds.  Why,  on  that 
farm  in  Kansas  where  I  slept  in  the  hay  mow  for  the 
sake  of  the  ventilation  and  to  study  the  constellations 
through  the  cracks,  a  fugitive  burglar  crawled  in 
one  night  and  we  nearly  scared  each  other  to  death! 
But  I  made  a  friend  of  that  poor  chap.  Tucked  him 
away  and  fed  him  for  a  couple  of  days.  Had  a  let- 
ter from  him  last  week.  He's  away  up  in  Canada 
working  in  a  lumber  camp.  Now  sleeping  in  the  hay 
with  that  poor  devil  didn't  do  me  any  harm.  Maybe 
I  did  him  some  good!  He  swore  he  wasn't  guilty, 
so  my  conscience  was  easy  about  not  calling  up  the 
sheriff  and  turning  him  over.  Give  everybody  the 
benefit  of  the  doubt;  that's  my  idea!" 

It  was  not  Ethel's  way  to  give  any  one  the  bene- 
fit of  the  doubt.  Mr.  Durland  covered  a  queer  little 
chuckle  by  pretending  to  cough.  Grace  tried  to  change 
the  subject;  but  Ethel  was  not  to  be  thwarted  in 
her  attempt  to  elicit  from  John  an  expression  of  dis- 
approval of  Grace's  course  in  becoming  a  salesgirl. 

"That's  a  good  story,  Mr.  Moore,  but  when  you 
think  of  a  girl  like  Grace,  being  numbered  and  put 


108  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

in  with  girls  who've  had  nothing  like  her  advantages 
• — that's  what  I  meant.  Not  that  Grace  won't  be 
equal  to  the  test,  but " 

"Well,"  John  interrupted,  "I've  never  been  in  these 
big  stores  much  but  this  morning  while  I  was  trying 
to  get  my  eye  on  Grace  I  saw  all  those  girls  stepping 
round  and  I  thought  what  a  fine  looking  lot  they 
were!  And  all  busy  and  right  on  the  job!  Now  there's 
that  Miss  Kirby — was  that  the  name,  Grace?" 

"Yes,"  Grace  answered,  strongly  inclined  to  giggle, 
now  that  the  innocent  and  well-meaning  John  had 
brought  Irene  to  the  table. 

"You  take  a  girl  like  that,"  said  John  warming  to 
his  work,  "moving  around  like  a  duchess,  and  with 
that  way  about  her  that  makes  you  know  she's  onto 
her  job!  I'll  bet  there's  lots  of  'em  just  like  her.  I 
say  you've  got  to  hand  it  to  'em.  I  tell  you,  Mrs.  Dur- 
land,  while  we've  got  girls  like  Miss  Kirby  and  Grace 
Durland  I'll  say  America's  safe!  Wasn't  it  nice, 
Grace,  the  way  Miss  Kirby  fixed  it  for  you  to  get 
off.  You  could  see  she  was  pleased  clear  through  to 
have  the  authority!" 

"I  don't  think — "  began  Ethel;  but  scenting  bat- 
tle, Mrs.  Durland  rose  from  the  table. 

"You  and  Mr.  Moore  go  into  the  parlor,  Grace. 
Ethel  and  I  will  straighten  up  out  here." 

"Not  on  your  tin-type!"  John  protested.  "I  just 
love  to  dry  dishes.  You  just  let  me  take  a  hand. 
I'll  pay  for  every  plate  I  smash!" 

As  he  refused  to  be  denied  Grace  found  an  apron 
for  him  and  they  made  merry  over  the  dishwashing. 

While  they  were  in  the  midst  of  it  Ethel  came  to 
the  door  to  say  that  Grace  was  wanted  on  the  tele- 
phone. Ethel's  manner  of  conveying  the  information 
prepared  Grace  for  Irene's  voice. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  109 

"Can  you  talk  a  minute?  I  had  a  telegram  from 
some  friends  of  ours  this  afternoon.  They  wanted  to 
be  remembered  to  you;  that's  all.  I  think  your  par- 
ticular friend  will  stop  on  his  way  east.  Tell  me,  did 
you  get  in  bad?" 

"Oh,  it's  all  right  now,"  Grace  replied.  "I've  got 
company  and  we  mustn't  talk." 

"I  understand  perfectly.  I'm  spending  an  evening 
at  home  for  a  change  and  I  just  thought  I'd  let  you 
know  our  gay  cavaliers  hadn't  forgotten  us.  Is  your 
company  exciting?" 

"Just  nice.    You  met  him  this  morning." 

"I'd  guessed  it  And  you  took  him  home  for  sup- 
per, like  the  good  little  girl  you  are!  Well,  it's  a  joy 
to  meet  one  of  the  unvarnished  occasionally.  I  may 
try  to  take  him  away  from  you;  just  hand  him  that!" 


CHAPTER  SIX 


THE  repentant  mood  induced  by  the  spectacle  of 
the  football  game  and  John  Moore's  visit  still  lay 
upon  Grace  the  next  morning  when  she  went  down 
to  the  Durland  eight  o'clock  Sunday  breakfast. 

"I'm  sorry  you  hurried  down,"  said  her  mother 
cheerily.  "I  don't  want  you  girls  to  come  into  the 
kitchen  Sunday  mornings;  you're  both  tired  from  your 
week's  work  and  I  want  you  to  make  the  Sabbath  a 
real  day  of  rest." 

"Oh,  I'm  for  getting  up  when  I  wake  up,"  Grace 
answered.  "I'm  feeling  fine.  Let  me  do  the  toast, 
Ethel.  I  just  love  toasting." 

She  led  the  talk  at  the  table,  recurring  to  the  foot- 
ball game,  exploring  the  newspaper  for  the  sporting 
page  to  clarify  her  impressions  of  certain  points  in 
the  contest. 

"John  was  simply  a  scream!  He  talked  of  every- 
thing under  the  sun.  You  might  have  thought  he 
didn't  want  me  to  know  what  was  going  on  at  all!" 

John  was  the  safest  of  topics;  they  had  all  liked 
him;  and  Grace  related  many  stories  illustrative  of 
the  young  man's  determination  to  refuse  no  task  by 
which  he  could  earn  the  dollars  he  needed  to  lodge, 
clothe  and  feed  himself  while  gaining  his  education. 
Now  that  they  had  seen  him  at  their  own  table  they 
could  the  better  enjoy  Grace's  enumeration  of  John's 
sturdy  qualities. 

This  was  the  happiest  breakfast  the  Durlands  had 

110 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  111 

known  since  Grace  came  home.  It  was  in  her  heart 
to  do  her  full  share  in  promoting  the  cheer  of  the 
household.  The  unfortunate  revelation  of  her  du- 
plicity of  Friday  night  would  no  doubt  be  forgotten 
if  she  behaved  herself;  and  she  had  no  intention  of 
repeating  the  offense.  Nevertheless  she  was  glad  that 
she  had  asserted  herself.  It  had  done  no  harm  to 
declare  her  right  to  independent  action  and  the  ex- 
ercise of  her  own  judgment  in  the  choice  of  friends; 
she  would  have  had  no  peace,  she  assured  herself,  if 
she  hadn't  taken  a  stand  against  an  espoinage  that 
would  have  been  intolerable.  She  persuaded  herself 
that  her  mother  and  sister  were  treating  her  with  much 
more  respect  now  that  she  had  shown  that  she  couldn't 
be  frightened  or  cowed  by  their  criticisms. 

Before  breakfast  was  over  Ethel  asked  quite  casu- 
ally whether  Grace  wouldn't  go  to  church  with  her, 
and  Mrs.  Durland  promptly  approved  the  invitation. 

"You  can  go  as  well  as  not,  Grace.  Ethel  has  her 
Sunday  school  class  first,  but  she  can  meet  you  right 
afterwards.  I  don't  want  you  girls  bothering  with  the 
Sunday  dinner." 

Grace  didn't  question  that  this  matter  had  been 
canvassed  privately  by  Ethel  and  her  mother;  very 
likely  it  had  been  Ethel's  suggestion;  but  she  decided 
instantly  that  it  would  be  good  policy  to  go.  Her 
church-going  had  always  been  desultory  and  her 
mother  had  ceased  to  insist  on  it.  But  the  situation 
called  for  a  concession  on  her  part. 

"Why,  yes;  thank  you  ever  so  much,  Ethel/'  she 
said.  "I  haven't  been  hi  ages.  I'd  meant  to  do  some 
sewing  but  that  can  wait." 

"I  think,"  said  Mrs.  Durland,  "we  all  need  the 
help  and  inspiration  of  the  church.  Stephen,  wouldn't 
you  like  to  go  with  the  girls?  I  don't  believe  you've 


112  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

ever  heard  Dr.  Ridgley;  he's  very  liberal  and  a  stimu- 
lating speaker." 

Durland  mumbled  an  incoherent  rejection  of  the 
idea;-  then  looked  up  from  his  reading  to  explain 
that  he  had  some  things  to  attend  to  at  the  shop. 
There  was  nothing  surprising  in  the  explanation.  He 
always  went  to  his  shop  on  Sunday  mornings.  Even 
in  the  old  days  of  his  identification  with  Cummings- 
Durland  he  had  betaken  himself  every  Sunday  to  the 
factory  to  ponder  his  problems. 

II 

As  the  congregation  assembled  Grace  yielded  herself 
to  the  spell  of  the  organ,  whose  inspiring  strains  gave 
wings  to  her  imagination.  Always  impressionable,  she 
felt  that  she  had  brought  her  soul  humbled  and 
chastened  into  the  sanctuary.  Here  were  the  evi- 
dences of  those  more  excellent  things  that  had  been 
pointed  out  to  her  from  her  earliest  youth.  The 
service  opened  spiritedly  with  the  singing  of  a 
familiar  hymn  which  touched  chords  in  her  heart  that 
had  long  been  silent.  She  joined  in  the  singing  and 
in  the  responsive  reading  of  a  selection  of  the  Psalms. 
She  had  read  somewhere  that  the  church,  that  Chris- 
tianity indeed,  was  losing  its  hold  upon  the  mind  and 
the  conscience  of  mankind.  But  this  church  was 
filled;  many  men  and  women  must  still  be  finding  a 
tangible  help  in  the  precepts  and  example  of  Jesus. 

Ethel,  sitting  beside  her,  certainly  found  here  some- 
thing that  brought  her  back  Sunday  after  Sunday,  and 
made  her  a  zealous  helper  in  the  church  activities. 
Bigoted  and  intolerant,  unkind  and  ungenerous  as 
Ethel  was,  there  was  something  in  her  devotion  to  the 
church  that  set  her  a  little  apart,  spoke  for  something 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  113 

fine  in  her,  that  for  the  moment  caused  Grace  a 
twinge  of  envy.  In  her  early  youth  she  had  "joined" 
the  West  End  church  that  her  mother  attended; 
but  before  she  left  high  school  the  connection 
had  ceased  to  interest  her.  Dr.  Ridgley's  congrega- 
tion was  composed  largely  of  the  prosperous  and 
well-to-do.  Did  these  people  about  her  really  order 
their  lives  in  keeping  with  the  teachings  of  Jesus? 
Was  the  Christian  life  a  possible  thing?  Were  these 
women  in  their  smart  raiment  really  capable  of  living 
in  love  and  charity  with  their  neighbors,  eager  to  help, 
to  serve,  to  save?  Absorbed  in  her  own  thoughts  she 
missed  the  text;  found  herself  studying  the  minister, 
a  young  man  of  quiet  manner  and  pleasing  voice. 
Then  detached  sentences  arrested  her  truant  thoughts, 
and  soon  she  was  giving  his  utterances  her  complete 
attention. 

.  .  .  "Leaving  God  out  of  the  question,"  he  was 
saying,  "what  excuse  have  we  to  offer  ourselves  if 
we  fail  to  do  what  we  know  to  be  right?  We  must 
either  confess  to  a  weakness  in  our  own  fibre,  or  lay 
the  burden  on  some  one  else.  We  must  be  either 
captain  or  slave.  .  .  .  We  hear  much  about  the 
changed  spirit  of  the  time.  It  is  said  that  the  old  bar- 
ricades no  longer  shield  us  from  evil;  that  the  checks 
upon  our  moral  natures  are  broken  down;  that  many 
of  the  old  principles  of  uprightness  and  decent  living 
have  been  superseded  by  something  new,  which  makes 
it  possible  for  us  to  do  very  much  as  we  please  with- 
out harm  to  our  souls.  Let  us  not  be  deceived  by 
such  reasoning.  There's  altogether  too  much  talk 
about  the  changes  that  are  going  on.  There  are  no 
new  temptations;  they  merely  wear  a  new  guise.  The 
soul  and  its  needs  do  not  change;  the  God  who  ever 
lives  and  loves  does  not  change.  .  .  .  There's  a 


114  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

limit  upon  our  capacity  for  self-deception.  We  may 
think  we  are  free,  but  at  a  certain  point  we  find  that 
after  all  we  are  the  prisoners  of  conscience. 

"The  business  of  life  is  a  series  of  transactions  be- 
tween the  individual  soul  and  God.  We  can  change 
that  relationship  only  by  our  own  folly.  We  can  de- 
ceive ourselves  with  excuses;  but  the  test  of  an  ex- 
cuse is  whether  it  will  pass  muster  with  God.  God 
is  not  mocked;  we  can't  'just  get  by'  with  God.  We 
may  be  sure  that  we  are  pretty  close  to  a  realization 
of  the  Christian  life  when  we  feel  that  we  have  an 
excuse  for  any  sin  or  failure  that  we  dare  breathe 
into  a  prayer.  There's  hope  for  all  of  us  as  long  as 
our  sins  are  such  that  we're  not  ashamed  to  carry  them 
to  God.  .  .  .  Let  us  live  on  good  terms  with 
ourselves  first  of  all  and  with  God  be  the  rest.  Let 
us  keep  in  harmony  with  that  power  above  us  and 
beyond  us  which  in  all  ages  has  made  for  righteous- 
ness." ... 

The  minister  was  uttering  dearly  and  forcibly  the 
thoughts  that  had  been  creeping  through  her  own 
mind  like  tired  heralds  feebly  crying  warning  to  a 
threatened  fortress.  Captain  or  slave,  that  was  the 
question.  She  had  told  Trenton  that  she  was  afraid 
of  the  answers  to  vexed  problems  of  life  and  conduct. 
She  saw  now  the  cowardice  of  this.  Her  intelli- 
gence she  knew  to  be  above  the  average,  and  her  con- 
science had  within  twenty-four  hours  proved  itself 
to  be  uncomfortably  sensitive  and  vigilant.  There 
might  be  breaks  in  the  old  moral  barriers  but  if  this 
were  really  true  it  would  be  necessary  for  her  to 
stumble  over  the  debris  to  gain  the  inviting  freedom 
of  the  territory  beyond.  No;  there  would  be  no  ex- 
cuse for  her  if  she  failed  to  fashion  something  fine 
and  noble  of  her  life. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  115 

In  the  vestibule  Ethel  introduced  her  to  the  min- 
ister, who  greeted  her  warmly  and  praised  Ethel;  she 
was  one  of  his  standbys  he  said.  While  he  and  Ethel 
were  conferring  about  some  matter  connected  with 
the  young  people's  society  Grace  was  accosted  by  a 
lady  whom  she  identified  at  once  as  her  first  customer 
at  Shipley's. 

"Do  I  know  you  or  not?"  demanded  Miss  Reynolds 
pleasantly.  "Hats  make  such  a  difference,  but  I 
thought  I  recognized  you.  I've  been  away  so  many 
years  that  I  look  twice  at  every  one  I  meet.  I  was 
caught  in  England  by  the  war  and  just  stayed  on.  It 
gives  you  a  queer  feeling  to  find  yourself  a  stranger  in 
your  native  town.  It  was  silly  of  me  to  stay  away 
so  long.  Well,  how  are  things  going  with  you?" 

"Just  fine,"  Grace  answered,  noting  that  Miss  Rey- 
nolds wore  one  of  the  suits  she  had  sold  her,  and 
looked  very  well  in  it. 

The  old  lady  (the  phrase  was  ridiculous  in  the  case 
of  one  so  alert  and  spirited)  caught  the  glance;  indeed 
nothing  escaped  the  bright  eyes  behind  Beulah  Rey- 
nolds' spectacles.  She  bent  toward  Grace  and  whis- 
pered: "This  suit's  very  satisfactory  I"  And  then: 
"Well,  we've  caught  each  other  in  a  good  place.  My 
grandfather  was  one  of  the  founders  of  this  church, 
so  I  dropped  in  to  have  a  look.  Haven't  seen  more 
than  a  dozen  people  I  used  to  know.  There  was  a 
good  deal  of  sense  in  that  sermon;  the  best  I've  heard 
in  years.  They  don't  scatter  fire  and  brimstone  the 
way  they  used  to." 

One  would  have  thought  from  her  manner  that 
she  was  enormously  relieved  to  find  that  fire  and 
brimstone  had  been  abandoned  as  a  stimulus  to  the 
Christian  life. 

"I'm  not  a  member,"  said  Grace,  "but  my  sister 


116  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

is.    I  never  heard  Dr.  Ridgley  before.    I  liked  his 
sermon;  I  think  I  needed  it." 

Grace  was  smiling  but  something  a  little  wistful 
in  her  tone  caused  Miss  Reynolds  to  regard  her  with 
keen  scrutiny. 

"Do  you  know,  you've  come  into  my  mind  fre- 
quently since  our  meeting  at  the  store?  I've  thought 
of  you — uncommercially,  I  mean,  if  that's  the  way  to 
put  it!  I'd  like  to  know  you  better." 

"Oh,  thank  you,  Miss  Reynolds;  I've  thought  of 
you,  too,  and  have  hoped  you'd  come  into  Shipley's 
again." 

"Oh,  clothes  don't  interest  me  a  particle;  I  may 
not  visit  Shipley's  again  for  years!  But  that  doesn't 
mean  I  shan't  see  you.  I  wonder  if  you'd  come  to  my 
house  some  evening  for  dinner — just  ourselves.  Would 
that  bore  you?" 

"It  certainly  wouldn't!"  Grace  responded  smilingly. 

"The  sooner  the  better  then!  Tomorrow  evening 
shall  we  say?  Don't  think  of  dressing.  Come  direct 
from  your  work.  Here's  my  address  on  this  card. 
I'll  send  my  motor  for  you." 

"Please  don't  trouble  to  do  that!  I  can  easily  come 
out  on  the  street  car." 

"Suit  yourself.  It's  almost  like  kidnapping  and — it 
just  occurs  to  me  that  I  don't  really  know  your  name!" 
Her  ignorance  of  Grace's  name  greatly  amused  Miss 
Reynolds.  "For  all  you  know  this  might  be  a  scheme 
to  snare  you  to  my  house  and  murder  you!" 

"I'll  cheerfully  take  the  chance!"  laughed  Grace, 
and  gave  her  name.  The  minister  had  now  finished 
with  Ethel,  and  Grace  introduced  her  sister  to  Miss 
Reynolds,  who  did  not,  however,  include  Ethel  in  her 
invitation  to  dinner. 

"She    charmingly   eccentric,"    Ethel    remarked    as 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  117 

Miss  Reynolds  turned  away.  "And  awfully  rich;  one 
of  the  richest  woman  taxpayers  in  the  state. 

"Yes;  I  understand  she  is,"  said  Grace  without 
enthusiasm.  "But  we  needn't  hold  that  against  her." 
And  then,  recalling  Ethel's  complacent  tone  in  men- 
tioning any  social  recognition  by  her  church  friends, 
Grace  remarked  carelessly,  "She's  invited  me  to  dine 
with  her  tomorrow  night.  I'm  to  be  the  only  guest. 
She  seems  to  have  a  crush  on  me! " 

At  the  midday  dinner  Ethel  disclosed  Miss  Rey- 
nolds' partiality  for  Grace  with  all  impressiveness. 

"Why,  Grace!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Durland,  "do  you 
fully  appreciate  what  that  means?" 

"It  means  that  a  very  nice  lady  has  invited  me  to 
share  her  dinner,"  Grace  answered. 

"I  hope  you  realize,"  said  Ethel,  "what  a  great  com- 
pliment that  is.  Why,  she  can  do  worlds  for  you! " 

"Here's  hoping  she  keeps  a  good  cook!"  Grace  re- 
torted, irritated  that  they  were  attributing  so  much 
importance  to  what  she  preferred  to  look  upon  as 
no  more  than  an  act  of  spontaneous  kindness  in  a 
generous  hearted  woman. 

"Miss  Reynolds  represents  the  old  conservative 
element  here,"  Mrs.  Durland  remarked  in  a  tone  that 
implied  her  deep  reverence  for  that  element  of  the  pop- 
ulation— "the  people  who  always  stood  for  the  best 
things  of  life.  Her  father  was  a  colonel  in  the 
Civil  War.  They  always  had  money.  A  woman  like 
that  can  make  herself  felt.  Now  that  she's  back,  I* 
hope  she'll  see  that  she  has  a  work  to  do.  She  has  no 
ties  and  with  her  position  and  wealth  she  can  make 
herself  a  power  for  good  in  checking  the  evil  tendencies 
so  apparent  in  our  city." 

"She's  so  quaint;  so  deliciously  old-fashioned," 
added  Ethel,  "and  you  can  see  from  her  clothes  that 


118  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

she's  an  independent  character.  I'm  going  to  ask 
Dr.  Ridgely  to  invite  her  to  take  the  chairmanship 
of  our  girl's  club  committee." 

"That  would  be  splendid,  Ethel,"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Durland,  "perhaps  you  could  say  a  word  to  her  about 
it,  Grace.  You  know  better  than  Ethel  the  dangers 
and  temptations  of  the  girl  wage-earner." 

"I  don't  know  why  I  should,"  Grace  replied. 
"Please  don't  talk  to  me  as  though  I  had  a  monopoly 
of  all  the  wickedness  in  the  world." 

"Grace,  dear,  I  didn't  mean " 

"All  right,  mother.  But  I  have  my  feelings,  you 
know." 

"The  old  Reynolds  house  on  Meridian  Street  has 
been  turned  into  a  garage,"  said  Ethel;  "it's  too  bad 
those  old  homes  had  to  go.  Miss  Reynolds  has  bought 
a  house  not  far  from  where  Bob  Cummings  built." 

Any  mention  of  the  Cummingses,  no  matter  how 
inadvertent,  inevitably  precipitated  a  discussion  of 
that  family  from  some  angle.  Mrs.  Durland  said  for 
the  hundredth  time  that  they  didn't  deserve  their  pros- 
perity; she  doubted  very  much  whether  they  were 
happy. 

"Bob's  the  best  one  of  the  family,"  she  continued. 
"Tom  and  Merwin  haven't  amounted  to  anything  and 
they  never  will.  It  must  have  been  a  blow  to  the 
family  when  Merwin  married  a  girl  who  was  nobody, 
or  worse.  She  worked  in  some  automobile  office." 

Ethel  challenged  the  statement  that  the  girl  Mer- 
win Cummings  married  worked  in  an  automobile  of- 
fice. It  was  a  railroad  office,  and  though  it  didn't 
matter  particularly  with  which  method  of  transporta- 
tion the  young  woman  was  identified  before  her  mar- 
riage, Mrs.  Durland  and  Ethel  debated  the  question 
for  several  minutes.  Mrs.  Durland  had  only  heard 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  119 

somewhere '  that  Mrs.  Merwin  Cummings  had  been 
a  stenographer  for  an  automobile  agent  while  Ethel 
was  positive  that  a  railroad  office  had  been  the  scene 
of  the  girl's  labors,  her  authority  being  another  girl 
who  worked  in  the  same  place. 

"Jessie  didn't  speak  any  too  highly  of  her,"  Ethel 
added;  "not  that  there  was  anything  really  wrong  with 
the  girl.  She  ran  around  a  good  deal,  and  usually 
had  two  or  three  men  on  the  string." 

"A  good  many  very  nice  girls  keep  two  or  three 
men  on  the  string,"  said  Grace.  "I  don't  see  that 
there's  anything  so  terrible  in  that." 


Ill 


The  next  day  at  noon  Grace  went  to  a  trust  com- 
pany where  she  kept  an  account  that  represented  the 
aggregate  of  small  gifts  of  cash  she  had  received 
through  a  number  of  years  at  Christmas  and  on  her 
birthdays.  As  she  waited  at  the  window  for  her  pass- 
book, Bob  Cummings  crossed  the  lobby  on  his  way  to 
the  desk  of  one  of  the  officers.  She  wondered  how  he 
would  greet  her  if  they  met,  and  what  her  attitude  to- 
ward him  ought  to  be  in  view  of  the  break  between  her 
father  and  Isaac  Cummings.  She  found  a  certain 
mild  excitement  as  she  pondered  this,  her  eyes  occa- 
sionally turning  toward  Cummings  as  he  leaned 
against  the  railing  that  enclosed  the  administrative 
offices  of  the  company.  Grace  had  always  liked  and 
admired  him;  and  it  had  hurt  her  more  than  she  ever 
confessed  that  after  the  removal  of  the  Cummingses 
from  the  old  neighborhood  Bob  had  gradually  ceased 
his  attentions.  Perhaps  his  family  had  interferred  as 


120  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

her  mother  had  hinted;  but  it  made  no  difference  now 
that  he  had  married  and  passed  completely  out  of  her 
ken. 

Cummings  had  finished  his  errand  and  was  walking 
quickly  toward  the  door  when  he  caught  sight  of  her. 

"Hello,  Grace!  I'm  mighty  glad  to  see  you,"  he 
said  cordially.  "Why — "  He  checked  himself  and 
the  smile  left  his  face  abruptly  as  he  remembered  that 
their  friendly  status  had  changed  since  their  last 
meeting. 

Grace  relieved  his  embarrassment  promptly  by 
smilingly  putting  out  her  hand. 

"I'm  very  glad  to  see  you,  Bob,"  she  said.  "It's 
really  been  a  long  time,  almost  three  years  1" 

"Just  about,"  he  answered  slowly. 

"Old  Father  Time  has  a  way  of  romping  right  on!" 
she  remarked  lightly. 

They  were  in  the  path  of  customers  intent  upon 
reaching  the  cages  and  she  took  a  step  toward  the 
door  when  he  said,  glancing  toward  a  long  bench  at 
the  side  of  the  room,  "If  you're  not  in  a  rush  let's  sit 
down  a  minute.  There's  something  I'd  like  to  say  to 
you." 

"Oh,  very  well,"  she  assented,  surprised  but  not 
displeased. 

He  was  the  son  of  a  man  who  had  dismissed  her 
father  from  the  concern  in  which  their  names  had 
long  been  identified;  but  in  so  public  a  place  there 
could  be  no  harm  in  talking  to  him.  Her  old  liking 
for  him  at  once  outweighed  any  feeling  she  had  against 
his  father.  He  was  a  big  boy  when  she  was  still  a 
small  girl  and  he  was  her  first  hero.  He  was  always 
quiet,  thoughtful  and  studious,  with  a  chivalrous  re- 
gard for  the  rights  and  feelings  of  others.  They  had 
been  chums,  confiding  their  troubles  to  each  other. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  121 

It  was  to  her  that  he  had  revealed  his  succession  of 
boyish  ambitions,  and  she  had  encouraged  his  fond- 
ness for  music  when  other  youngsters  twitted  him 
for  taking  piano  lessons  like  a  girl.  He  had  never 
thought  he  would  like  business;  he  wanted  to  be  a 
musician,  with  the  leadership  of  an  orchestra  as  his 
ultimate  goal.  It  was  because  his  brother  Merwin 
had  from  an  early  age  shown  a  refractory  spirit  that 
the  parental  authority  had  thwarted  Bob's  aspira- 
tions; one  of  the  sons  at  least  had  to  go  into  the 
business  and  Bob  was  now  a  vice-president  of  the  re- 
organized Cummings  Manufacturing  Company. 

"I've  been  hoping  for  a  chance  to  see  you,  Grace. 
It's  not  easy  to  speak  of  it  but  I  want  you  to  know 
I'm  sorry  things  turned  out  as  they  did.  About  your 
father  and  the  business,  I  mean.  You  must  all  of  you 
feel  pretty  hard  about  it.  I  hope  it  doesn't  mean  any 
change  in  your  plans  for  finishing  at  the  university. 
I  know  how  you'd  counted  on  that." 

"I've  given  it  up;  I'm  home  to  stay,"  she  answered. 
"But  you  needn't  feel  badly  about  it.  Of  course  it 
must  have  been  necessary — about  father  and  the  busi- 
ness, I  mean." 

He  was  embarrassed  by  her  cheerful  acceptance  of 
the  situation,  and  stammered,  leaving  one  or  two 
sentences  unfinished  before  he  got  hold  of  himself. 

"I  want  you  to  know  I  did  all  I  could  to  prevent  the 
break.  It  seemed  a  pity  after  your  father  and  mine 
had  been  together  so  long.  But  for  some  time  the 
plant  had  needed  an  active  superintendent;  just  trust- 
ing the  foremen  of  the  shops  wouldn't  serve  any 
longer,  and  you  won't  mind  my  saying  it  but  your 
father  never  liked  executive  work.  I  suggested  an- 
other way  of  handling  it  that  would  have  made  Mr. 
Durland  a  vice-president  and  free  to  go  on  with  his 


122  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

experiments,  but  I  couldn't  put  it  through.  I  did  my 
best;  honestly  I  did,  Grace!" 

There  was  the  old  boyish  eagerness  in  this  appeal. 
He  regarded  her  fixedly,  anxious  for  some  assurance 
that  she  understood.  She  understood  only  too  well 
that  her  father  had  become  an  encumbrance,  and  that 
in  plain  terms  the  company  couldn't  afford  to  keep  him 
at  his  old  salary  any  longer.  It  was  unnecessary  for 
Bob  to  apologize;  but  it  was  like  him  to  seize  the  first 
possible  moment  to  express  his  sympathy.  She  had 
always  felt  the  gentleness  in  him,  which  was  denoted 
in  his  blue  eyes,  which  just  now  shone  with  the  re- 
flection of  his  eagerness  to  set  himself  right  with  her. 
He  turned  his  hat  continually  in  his  hands — they  were 
finely  shaped,  with  long  supple  fingers.  At  the  base  of 
his  left  thumb  there  was  a  scar,  almost  imperceptible, 
the  result  of  a  slash  with  a  jack  knife  one  day  in  the 
Durland  yard  where  he  had  taken  her  dare  to  bring 
down  a  particular  fine  spray  of  blossoms  from  an 
old  cherry  tree.  In  his  anxiety  to  deliver  it  unbroken 
on  the  bough  he  had  cut  himself.  She  remembered 
her  consternation  at  seeing  the  injury,  his  swaggering 
attempt  to  belittle  it;  his  submission  to  her  ministra- 
tions as  she  tied  it  up  with  a  hankerchief.  She  was 
twelve  then;  he  sixteen.  He  saw  the  direction  of  her 
eyes,  lifted  the  hand  and  with  a  smile  glanced  at  the 
scar.  She  colored  as  she  realized  that  he  had  read 
her  thoughts. 

"That  was  centuries  ago,"  he  said.  "We  did  use  to 
have  good  times  in  your  back  yard!  Do  you  remem- 
ber the  day  you  tumbled  out  of  the  swing  and  broke 
your  arm?  You  didn't  cry;  you  were  a  good  little 
sport."  And  then,  his  eyes  meeting  hers,  "You're  still 
a  mighty  good  sport!" 

"If  I  never  have  anything  worse  than  a  broken  arm 
to  cry  over  I'll  be  lucky,"  she  answered  evasively. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  123 

There  was  no  excuse  for  lingering;  he  had  expressed 
his  regret  at  her  father's  elimination  from  Cummings- 
Durland,  and  it  served  no  purpose  to  compare  mem- 
ories of  the  former  friendly  relation  between  the 
young  people  of  the  two  families,  which  were  now 
bound  to  recede  to  the  vanishing  point.  But  he 
seemed  in  no  haste  to  leave  her.  She  on  her  side 
was  finding  pleasurable  sensations  in  the  encounter. 
He  had  been  her  first  sweetheart,  so  recognized  by  the 
other  youngsters  of  the  neighborhood,  and  they  had 
gone  to  the  same  dancing  class.  And  he  had  kissed 
her  once,  shyly,  on  a  night  when  the  Cummingses 
were  giving  a  children's  party.  This  had  occurred  on 
a  dark  corner  of  the  veranda.  It  had  never 
been  repeated  or  referred  to  between  them,  but 
the  memory  of  it  was  not  without  its  sweetness.  She 
was  ashamed  of  herself  for  remembering  it  now.  She 
wondered  whether  he  too  remembered  it.  And  there 
had  been  those  later  attentions  after  the  Cummingses 
had  moved  away  that  had  encouraged  hopes  in  her 
own  breast  not  less  than  in  her  mother's  that  Bob's 
early  preference  might  survive  the  shock  of  the  Cum- 
mingses' translation  to  the  fashionable  district,  with 
its  inevitable  change  of  social  orientation. 

Ethel  and  her  mother  had  questioned  the  happi- 
ness of  his  marriage,  and  her  mind  played  upon  this 
as  she  sat  beside  him,  feeling  the  charm  he  had  al- 
ways had  for  her  and  wondering  a  little  about  the 
girl  he  had  married  whom  she  had  never  seen  and 
knew  of  only  from  the  talk  at  home.  But  two  years 
was  not  long  enough;  it  was  ridiculous  to  assume  that 
he  wasn't  happy  with  his  wife. 

"We  certainly  had  a  lot  of  fun  over  there,"  he  was 
saying.  "I  suppose  the  park  fountain  plays  just  the 
same  and  the  kids  still  sail  their  boats  in  the  pond." 

"Yes,  and  go  wading  and  fall  in  and  have  to  be  fished 


124  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

out  by  the  policeman!  But  we  can't  be  kids  always, 
Bob!" 

"No;  that's  the  worst  of  it!"  he  said  with  a  tinge  of 
dejection. 

"I'm  all  grown  up  now  and  have  a  job.  I'm  a  work- 
ing girl!" 

"No!"  he  exclaimed  incredulously.  "And  Roy " 

"Oh,  Roy's  to  finish  his  law  course;  he'll  be  through 
in  June." 

"That's  too  bad,  Grace!"  he  exclaimed.  "It's  you 
who  ought  to  have  stayed  on!  You're  the  very  type  of 
girl  who  ought  to  go  to  college.  It  would  have  made 
all  the  difference  in  the  world  to  you!  And  Ethel — 
is  she  at  work  too?" 

"Yes;  she's  in  an  insurance  office  and  I'm  in  Ship- 
ley's!" she  went  on  smiling  to  relieve  his  evident  dis- 
comfiture. "I'm  in  the  ready-to-wear  and  I'll  appre- 
ciate any  customers  you  send  my  way.  Call  for  Num- 
ber Eighteen!" 

"Why,  Grace!  You  don't  mean  it!  You  have  no 
business  doing  a  thing  like  that.  You  could  do  a  lot 
better." 

"Well,  I  didn't  just  see  it.  I'm  an  unskilled  laborer 
and  haven't  time  to  fit  myself  for  teaching,  stenog- 
raphy or  anything  like  that.  You  get  results  quicker 
in  a  place  like  Shipley's.  That  is,  I  hope  to  get  them 
if  I'm  as  intelligent  as  I  think  I  am!" 

"I'm  terribly  sorry,  Grace.  I  feel —  I  feel —  as 
though  we  were  responsible,  father  and  I;  and  we  are, 
of  course.  There  ought  to  have  been  some  other  way 
for  you;  something  more " 

"Please  don't!  That's  the  way  mother  and  Ethel 
talk." 

She  rose  quickly,  feeling  that  nothing  was  to  be 
gained  by  continuing  the  discussion  of  matters  that 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  125 

were  irrevocably  settled.  And,  moreover,  his  distress 
was  so  manifest  in  his  face  that  she  feared  the  scrutiny 
of  passersby. 

"Good-bye,  Bob,"  she  said.  "I'm  awfully  glad  I 
met  you.  Please  don't  trouble  at  all  about  what  can't 
be  helped.  I  haven't  any  hard  feeling — not  the  slight- 
est." 

"I  don't  like  it  at  all,"  he  said  impatiently. 

He  kept  beside  her  to  the  entrance,  where  she  gave 
him  a  nod  and  smile  and  hurried  away.  She  was 
troubled  at  once  for  fear  she  hadn't  expressed  cordi- 
ally enough  her  appreciation  of  his  sympathy.  Very 
likely  they  would  never  meet  again;  there  was  no 
reason  why  they  should.  He  had  merely  done  what 
was  perfectly  natural  in  view  of  their  old  friendship, 
made  it  clear  that  he  was  sorry  her  father  had  been 
thrust  out  of  the  company  of  which  he  had  been  one 
of  the  founders.  She  was  unable  to  see  anything  in 
the  interview  beyond  a  wish  on  his  part  to  be  kind,  to 
set  himself  right.  And  it  was  like  Bob  to  do  that. 

IV 

The  strong  romantic  strain  in  her  was  quickened  by 
the  meeting.  All  afternoon  her  thoughts  played  about 
Bob  Cummings.  She  reviewed  their  associations  in 
childhood  on  through  those  last  attentions  after  the 
Cummingses  left  the  Military  Park  neighborhood. 
Her  mother  had  probably  been  right  in  saying  that  if 
fortune  hadn't  borne  the  Cummingses  steadily  upward, 
leaving  the  Durlands  behind,  Bob  might  have  married 
her.  It  had  been  a  mistake  for  him  to  marry  a  society 
girl  who  was,  she  surmised,  incapable  of  appreciating 
his  temperament.  A  matter  of  propinquity  very 
likely;  she  had  heard  that  the  girl  was  not  rich  but 


126  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

belonged  to  one  of  the  old  families;  and  very  likely  on 
her  side  it  had  been  an  advantageous  arrangement. 

Why  did  men  marry  the  wrong  women?  she  asked 
herself  with  proneness  of  youth  to  propound  and 
answer  unanswerable  questions.  There  was  Tren- 
ton, who  had  so  frankly  admitted  the  failure  of 
his  own  marriage  and  with  equal  frankness  took  the 
burden  of  his  failure  upon  himself.  No  two  men  could 
be  more  utterly  unlike  than  Ward  Trenton  and 
Bob  Cummings,  and  she  busied  herself  contrasting 
them.  Trenton  was  practical-minded;  Bob  a  dreamer, 
and  save  for  his  college  experiences  the  range  of  his 
life  had  been  narrow.  If  both  were  free  which  would 
she  choose?  So  great  was  her  preoccupation  with 
these  speculations  that  her  work  suffered;  through 
sheer  inattention  she  let  a  promising  customer  escape 
without  making  a  purchase. 

In  the  afternoon  distribution  of  mail  she  received 
a  letter  from  Trenton.  It  began,  "Dear  Grace"  and 
read: 

"I  expected  to  see  you  again  this  week — that  is,  of 
course,  if  you'd  be  willing;  but  I'm  called  to  Kansas 
City  unexpectedly  and  may  not  touch  your  port  for 
ten  days  or  so.  I'm  not  conceited  enough  to  assume 
that  you  will  be  grief-stricken  over  my  delay,  and 
strictly  speaking  there's  no  excuse  for  writing  except 
that  you've  rather  haunted  me, — a  welcome  ghost,  I 
assure  you!  I  talked  far  too  much  about  myself  the 
other  night.  One  matter  I  shouldn't  have  spoken  of  at 
all.  No  question  of  confidence  in  you  or  anything  of 
that  sort.  But  it's  something  I  never  discuss  even 
with  old  and  intimate  friends.  You  have  guessed  what 
I  mean.  Bad  taste,  you  probably  thought  it.  It  was 
quite  that!  I  want  you  to  think  as  well  of  me  as  you 
can.  I'm  counting  very  much  on  seeing  you  again. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  127 

I  hope  you  are  well  and  happy  and  that  nothing  has 
happened  to  your  eyes  since  I  saw  them  last!" 

This  was  all  except  that  he  named  a  Kansas  City 
club  where  he  could  be  reached  for  the  next  week  if 
she  felt  moved  to  write.  She  hadn't  expected  to  hear 
from  him  and  the  note  was  a  distinct  surprise.  At 
every  opportunity  she  reread  it,  and,  catching  her  in 
the  act,  Irene  teased  her  about  it. 

"Oh,  you've  started  something!  I'll  wager  he 
signed  his  name  in  full;  that's  just  like  him.  Tommy 
never  writes  to  me  and  when  he  wires  he  signs  an 
assumed  name.  But  Ward  Trenton's  different.  I 
think  if  he  decided  to  commit  murder  he'd  send  his 
own  account  of  it  to  the  papers.  He  didn't  talk  to 
you  about  his  wife,  I  suppose,  when  Tommy  and  I 
left  you  alone  so  long  at  The  Shack?  Tommy's  known 
him  for  years  but  he  says  he  wouldn't  think  of  men- 
tioning his  wife  to  him.  I'd  like  to  see  Ward  in  love! 
These  quiet  ones  go  strong  when  they  get  started." 

"Oh,  his  letter's  just  a  little  friendly  jolly.  He's  had 
to  go  to  Kansas  City  instead  of  coming  back  here 
right  away." 

"Of  course  he  just  had  to  explain  that  I"  Irene 
laughed.  "I  can  see  this  is  going  to  be  a  real  case. 
See  what  you  can  do  with  that  woman  just  coming  in. 
She  looks  as  though  she  might  really  have  some  of 
the  mazuma." 

It  was  not  so  easy  as  Grace  had  imagined  in  her 
spiritual  ardor  of  Sunday  to  begin  retreating  from 
Irene.  She  realized  that  Irene  would  hardly  listen  in 
an  amiable  spirit  to  the  warning  she  had  thought  in  her 
hours  of  contrition  it  was  her  duty  to  give  her  friend. 
Irene's  serenity  as  she  paced  the  aisles  of  the  depart- 
ment, her  friendliness  and  unfailing  good  humor  were 
all  disarming.  Irene  wasn't  so  bad  perhaps;  Grace 


128  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

was  much  more  tolerant  of  Irene  than  she  had  thought 
on  Sunday  would  ever  be  possible  again. 

The  letter  from  Ward  Trenton  had  the  effect  of  re- 
opening a  door  which  Grace  had  believed  closed  and 
the  key  thrown  away.  She  found  herself  wondering 
whether  he  might  not  always  write  to  girls  he  met 
and  liked;  and  yet  as  his  image  appeared  before  her — 
and  he  lived  vividly  in  her  thoughts — she  accepted  as 
sincere  his  statement  that  he  had  broken  an  estab- 
lished reserve  in  talking  of  his  wife.  This  of  course 
was  what  he  referred  to;  and  she  saw  a  fine  nobility 
in  his  apprehension  lest  the  recipient  of  his  confidences 
might  think  the  less  of  him  for  mentioning  his  wife 
at  all. 

Grace  was  again  tormented  by  curiosity  as  to 
whether  Trenton  still  loved  his  wife  and  the  hope  that 
he  did  not.  She  hated  herself  for  this;  hated  herself 
for  having  lost  her  grip  upon  the  good  resolutions  of 
Sunday  to  forget  the  whole  episode  of  Kemp's  party. 
She  knew  enough  of  the  mind's  processes  to  indulge 
in  what  she  fancied  was  a  rigid  self-analysis.  She 
wondered  whether  she  was  really  a  normal  being, 
whether  other  girls'  thoughts  ran  riot  about  men  as 
hers  did;  whether  there  might  not  be  something  vulgar 
and  base  in  her  nature  that  caused  her  within  a  few 
hours  to  tolerate  the  thought  of  two  men,  both  mar- 
ried, as  potential  lovers.  .  .  . 

It  occurred  to  her  that  she  might  too  effectually 
have  burned  her  bridges  when  she  left  the  university. 
There  were  young  men  she  had  known  during  her  two 
years  in  Bloomington  whose  interest  she  might  have 
kept  alive;  among  them  there  were  a  number  of  sons 
of  well-to-do  families  in  country  towns.  But  she  was 
unable  to  visualize  herself  married  and  settled  in  a 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  129 

small  town  with  her  prospect  of  seeing  and  knowing 
the  world  limited  by  a  husband's  means  or  ambition. 
There  were  one  or  two  young  professors  who  had  paid 
her  attentions.  One  of  them,  a  widower  and  a  man 
of  substantial  attainments,  had  asked  her  to  marry 
him,  but  she  was  unable  to  see  herself  a  professor's 
wife,  beset  by  all  the  uncertainties  of  the  teaching 
profession. 

She  had  always  been  used  to  admiration,  but  until 
now  she  had  heavily  discounted  all  the  compliments 
that  were  paid  her  good  looks.  She  fpund  herself 
covertly  looking  into  the  mirrors  as  she  passed. 
Trenton  had  been  all  over  the  world  and  no 
doubt  had  seen  many  beautiful  women;  and  yet  he 
wrote  that  she  haunted  him,  which  could  only  mean 
that  he  was  unable  to  escape  from  the  thought  of  her. 
Again,  deeply  humble,  she  scouted  the  idea  that  he 
could  have  fallen  hi  love  with  her;  he  was  only  a  little 
sorry  for  her,  thinking  of  her  probably  as  a  rather 
nice  girl  who  was  to  be  pitied  because  she  had  to 
work  for  her  living. 

He  had  spoken  of  being  lonely.  Maybe  it  was  only 
for  lack  of  anything  better  to  do  that  he  fell  to  think- 
ing of  her  as  he  sat  in  the  club  in  St.  Louis  and  wrote 
to  her  out  of  his  craving  for  sympathy.  At  twenty- 
one  Grace  did  not  know  that  the  only  being  in  the 
world  who  is  more  dangerous  than  a  lonely  woman 
is  a  lonely  man. 


Grace  was  correct  in  her  assumption  that  Ward 
Trenton  had  written  her  in  a  fit  of  loneliness  but  she 


130  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

did  not  know  that  in  the  same  hour  he  had  written 
also  to  his  wife.  After  a  few  sentences  explaining  his 
presence  in  St.  Louis,  the  letter  to  Mrs.  Trenton  ran: 

"It's  almost  ridiculous, — the  distinctly  separate  lives 
we  lead.  I  was  just  studying  the  calendar  and  find 
that  we  haven't  met  for  exactly  six  months.  When 
I'm  at  home — if  I  may  so  refer  to  the  house  in  Pitts- 
burgh that  fixes  my  voting  place  and — pardon  me!  — 
doesn't  fix  much  of  anything  else — I  occasionally  find 
traces  of  your  visits.  I  must  say  the  servants  do 
pretty  well  considering  that  they  go  their  own  gait. 
You're  a  wonderful  housekeeper  at  long  range  1  But 
I'm  not  kicking.  The  gods  must  have  their  will  with 
us. 

"I  read  of  you  in  the  newspapers  frequently  and 
judge  that  you're  living  the  life  that  suits  you  best. 
I  found  a  copy  of  your  "Clues  to  a  New  Social  Order" 
on  the  new  book  table  here  in  the  club  library  and  re- 
read parts  of  it.  It  never  ceases  to  tickle  me  that  a 
woman  of  your  upbringing,  with  your  line  of  blue- 
nosed  New  England  ancestors,  should  want  to  pull 
down  the  pillars  of  society.  I  marvel  at  you  I  .  .  . 

"You've  asked  me  now  and  then  not  to  be  afraid 
to  tell  you  if  ever  I  ran  into  a  woman  who  interested 
me  particularly.  I  haven't  had  anything  to  report  till 
now.  But  the  other  night  I  met  a  girl, — she's  prob- 
ably just  crossing  the  line  into  the  twenties, — an  in- 
teresting, provocative  young  person.  She  represents 
in  a  mild  degree  the  new  order  of  things  you're  so 
mad  about;  going  to  live  her  own  life;  marriage  not 
in  the  sketch.  She's  a  salesgirl  in  a  big  shop,  but 
her  people  have  known  better  days  and  she  went  half- 
way through  college.  She's  standing  with  reluctant 
feet  where  the  brook  and  river  meet,  but  I'm  afraid 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  131 

won't  be  satisfied  to  play  in  the  brook;  she's  keen  for 
the  deeper  waters.  She's  as  handsome  as  a  goddess. 
She  kissed  me  very  prettily — her  own  idea  I  assure 
you!  The  remembrance  of  this  incident  is  not  wholly 
displeasing  to  me;  it  was  quite  spontaneous;  filial 
perhaps.  .  .  . 

"Those  bonds  you  have  in  the  Ashawana  Water 
Power  Company  are  all  right.  I  had  a  look  at  the 
plant  recently  and  the  dividends  are  sure.  .  .  ." 

Having  sealed  and  addressed  the  envelopes  Tren- 
ton laid  them  side  by  side  on  the  blotter  before  him, 
lighted  a  cigarette,  and  then  drew  out  and  opened  the 
locket  that  Grace  had  noted  at  The  Shack,  studying 
the  woman's  face  within  a  little  wistfully.  Then  with 
a  sigh  he  thrust  it  into  his  pocket  and  went  out  into 
the  night  and  tramped  the  streets,  coming  at  last  to 
the  post  office  where  he  mailed  both  letters. 

VI 

• 

Grace  set  off  with  the  liveliest  'expectations  to  keep 
her  appointment  with  Miss  Reynolds.  The  house 
struck  her  at  once  as  a  true  expression  of  the  taste 
and  characteristics  of  its  owner.  It  was  severely 
simple  in  design  and  furnishing,  but  with  adequate 
provision  for  comfort.  Grace  had  seen  pictures  of 
such  rooms  in  magazines  and  knew  that  they  repre- 
sented the  newest  idteas  in  house  decoration.  The 
neutral  tint  of  the  walls  was  an  ease  to  eye  and  spirit. 
Ethel  had  spoken  of  Miss  Reynolds  as  quaint,  an 
absurd  term  to  apply  either  to  the  little  woman  or  any 
of  her  belongings.  She  was  very  much  up  to  date, 
even  a  little  ahead  of  the  procession,  it  seemed  to 
Grace. 


132  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

"Oh,  thank  you!  I'm  glad  if  it  seems  nice,"  Miss 
Reynolds  replied  when  Grace  praised  the  house.  "All 
my  life  I've  lived  in  houses  where  everything  was  old 
and  the  furniture  so  heavy  you  had  to  get  a  derrick 
to  move  it  on  cleaning  day.  But  I  can't  accept  praise 
for  anything  here.  The  house  was  built  for  a  family 
that  moved  away  from  town  without  occupying  it. 
The  young  architect  who  designed  it  had  ideas  about 
how  it  ought  to  be  fixed  up  and  I  turned  him  loose. 
There  was  a  music  room,  so  I  had  to  get  a  grand  piano 
to  fit  into  the  alcove  made  for  it.  That  young  man  is 
most  advanced  and  I  thought  at  first  he  wouldn't  let 
me  have  any  place  to  sit  down  but  you  see  he  did  allow 
me  a  few  chairs!  Are  you  freezing?  I  hate  an  over- 
heated house." 

"I'm  perfectly  comfortable,"  said  Grace,  noting 
that  Miss  Reynolds  wore  the  skirt  of  the  blue  suit 
she  had  sold  her,  with  a  plain  white  waist  and  a  loose 
collar.  Her  snow  white  hair  was  brushed  back  loosely 
from  her  forehead.  Her  head  was  finely  modeled  and 
her  face,  aglow  from  an  afternoon  tramp  in  the  No- 
vember air,  still  preserved  the  roundness  of  youth. 
The  wrinkles  perceptible  about  her  eyes  and  mouth 
seemed  out  of  place, — only  tentative  tracings,  not  the 
indelible  markings  of  age.  She  had  an  odd  little  way 
of  turning  her  head  to  one  side  when  listening,  and 
mistaking  this  for  a  sign  of  deafness  Grace  had  lifted 
her  voice  slightly. 

"Now,  my  dear  child!"  cried  Miss  Reynolds,  "just 
because  I  cock  my  head  like  a  robin  don't  think  I'm 
shy  of  hearing.  It  always  amuses  me  to  have  people 
take  it  for  granted  that  I  can't  hear.  I  hear  every- 
thing; I  sometimes  wish  I  didn't  hear  so  much!  I've 
always  had  that  trick.  It's  because  one  of  my  eyes  is 
a  bit  stronger  than  the  other.  You'll  find  that  I 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  133 

don't  do  it  when  I  wear  my  glasses,  but  I  usually  take 
them  off  in  the  house." 

At  the  table  Miss  Reynolds  rambled  on  as  though 
Grace  were  an  old  friend. 

"Our  old  house  down  on  Meridian  Street  was  sold 
while  I  was  abroad.  It  had  grown  to  be  a  dingy  hole. 
Garret  full  of  trunks  of  letters  and  rubbish  like  that. 
I  cabled  at  once  to  sell  or  destroy  everything  in  the 
place.  So  that's  why  I'm  able  to  have  a  new  deal. 
Are  you  crazy  about  old  furniture?  Please  tell  me 
you  are  not? 

"Oh,  I  like  new  things  ever  so  much  better!"  Grace 
assured  her. 

"I  thought  you  would.  I  despise  old  furniture.  Old 
stuff  of  every  kind.  Old  people  too!"  With  a  smile 
on  her  lips  she  watched  Grace  to  note  the  effect  of 
this  speech.  "I  shouldn't  have  dreamed  of  asking  you 
to  give  up  an  evening  for  me  if  I  meant  to  talk  to  you 
like  an  old  woman.  My  neighbors  are  mostly  young 
married  people,  but  they  don't  seem  to  mind  my  set- 
tling among  them.  I'm  sixty-two;  hurry  and  say  I 
don't  look  a  day  over  fifty!" 

"Forty!"  Grace  corrected. 

"I  knew  I  was  going  to  like  you!  I  think  I'll 
spend  my  remaining  years  here  if  I  can  keep  away 
from  people  who  want  to  talk  about  old  times,  mean- 
ing of  course  when  I  was  a  girl.  It  doesn't  thrill  me 
at  all  to  know  that  right  here  where  this  house  stands 
my  grandfather  owned  a  farm.  Every  time  I  go 
down  town  I  dodge  old  citizens  I've  known  all  my 
life  for  fear  they'll  tell  me  about  the  great  changes 
and  expect  me  to  get  tearful  about  it.  I  can't  mourn 
over  the  passing  of  old  landmarks  and  I'd  certainly  not 
weep  at  the  removal  of  some  of  the  old  fossils  around 
this  town  who  count  all  their  money  every  day  to 


134  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

make  sure  nobody's  got  a  nickel  away  from  them. 
They  keep  their  lawyers  busy  tightening  up  their 
wills.  They've  invented  ways  of  tying  up  property  in 
trusts  so  you  can  almost  take  it  with  you  I" 

"That's  their  way  of  enjoying  life,  I  suppose,"  re- 
marked Grace,  who  was  taking  advantage  of  Miss 
Reynolds'  talkativeness  to  do  full  justice  to  a  sub- 
stantial dinner.  The  filet  of  beef  and  the  fresh  mush- 
rooms testified  to  the  presence  of  an  artist  in  the 
kitchen,  and  the  hot  rolls  were  of  superlative  light- 
ness. Miss  Reynolds  paused  occasionally  to  urge 
Grace  to  a  second  helping  of  everything  offered. 

"I  detest  anemic  people,"  Miss  Reynolds  declared. 
"If  you  don't  eat  my  food  I'll  feel  terribly  guilty  at 
asking  you  here." 

"It's  the  best  food  I  ever  atel  We  were  going  to 
have  corned  beef  and  cabbage  at  home,  so  all  these 
wonderful  dishes  seem  heavenly!" 

"You've  probably  wondered  why  I  grabbed  you  as 
I  did  and  asked  you  to  sit  at  meat  with  me?" 

"Why,  I  hope  you  asked  me  because  you  liked  mel" 
Grace  answered. 

"That's  the  correct  answer,  Grace — may  I  call  you 
Grace?  I  hate  having  a  lot  of  people  around;  I  like 
to  concentrate  on  one  person,  and  when  I  met  you  in 
the  church  entry  it  just  popped  into  my  head  that 
you  wouldn't  mind  a  bit  giving  me  an  evening.  It's 
awfully  tiresome  going  to  dinners  where  the  people 
are  all  my  own  age.  I've  always  hated  formal  en- 
tertaining. You  struck  me  as  a  very  fair  representa- 
tive of  the  new  generation  that  appeals  to  me  so 
much.  Don't  look  so  startled;  I  mean  that,  my  dear, 
as  a  compliment!  And  of  course  I  really  don't  know 
a  thing  about  you  except  that  you  have  very  pretty 
manners  and  didn't  get  vexed  that  day  in  the  store 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  135 

when  I  must  have  frightened  you  out  of  your  wits." 

"But  you  didn't,"  Grace  protested.  "I  liked  your 
way  of  saying  exactly  what  you  wanted." 

"I  always  try  to  do  that;  it  saves  a  lot  of  bother. 
And  please  don't  be  offended  if  I  say  that  it's  a  joy 
to  see  you  sitting  right  there  looking  so  charming. 
You  have  charming  ways;  of  course  you  know  that. 
And  the  effect  is  much  enhanced  when  you  blush  that 
way!" 

Grace  was  very  charming  indeed  as  she  smiled  at 
her  singular  hostess,  who  had  a  distinct  charm  of  her 
own.  She  felt  that  she  could  say  anything  to  Miss 
Reynolds  and  with  girlish  enthusiasm  she  promptly 
told  her  that  she  was  adorable. 

"I've  been  called  a  crank  by  experts,"  Miss  Rey- 
nolds said  challengingly,  as  though  she  were  daring  her 
guest  to  refute  the  statement.  "I  get  along  better 
with  foreigners  than  with  my  own  people.  Over  there 
they  attribute  my  indiosyncrasies  to  American  crude- 
ness,  to  be  tolerated  only  because  they  think  me  much 
better  off  in  worldly  goods  than  I  really  am." 

They  remained  at  the  table  for  coffee,  and  the  wait- 
ress who  had  served  the  dinner  offered  cigarettes. 
Grace  shook  her  head  and  experienced  a  mild  shock 
when  Miss  Reynolds  took  a  cigarette  and  lighted  it 
with  the  greatest  unconcern. 

"Abominable  habit!  Got  in  the  way  of  it  while  I 
was  abroad.  Please  don't  let  me  corrupt  youl" 

"I  suppose  I'll  learn  in  time,"  Grace  replied,  amused 
as  she  remembered  the  stress  her  mother  and  Ethel 
had  laid  on  Miss  Reynolds'  conservatism. 

It  occurred  to  her  that  Miss  Reynolds  was  entitled 
to  know  something  of  her  history  and  she  recited  the 
facts  of  her  life  simply  and  straightforwardly.  She 
had  only  said  that  her  father  had  been  unfortunate 


136  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

without  explaining  his  connection  with  Cummings- 
Durland.  Miss  Reynolds  smoked  and  sipped  her 
coffee  in  silence;  then  asked  in  her  quick  fashion: 

"Cummings-Durland?  Those  names  tinkle  together 
away  back  in  my  memory." 

"Father  and  Mr.  Cummings  came  here  from 
Rangerton  and  began  business  together.  The  Cum- 
mingses  used  to  live  neighbors  to  us  over  by  Military 
Park." 

"Bob  Cummings  is  one  of  my  neighbors,"  said  Miss 
Reynolds.  "Rather  tragic — putting  that  young  man 
into  business.  He  hates  it.  There  ought  to  be  some 
way  of  protecting  artistic  young  men  from  fathers 
who  try  to  fit  square  pegs  into  round  holes.  I  suppose 
the  business  troubles  broke  up  the  friendship  of  your 
families." 

"Yes;  my  mother  and  sister  are  very  bitter  about 
it;  they  think  father  was  unfairly  treated.  But  I  met 
Bob  only  this  morning  and  he  was  very  friendly.  He 
seemed  terribly  cut  up  because  I'd  left  college." 

"He's  a  sensitive  fellow;  he  would  feel  it,"  said 
Miss  Reynolds.  "So  you  children  grew  up  together — 
the  Durlands  and  the  Cummings.  I'm  asking  about 
your  present  relations  because  Bob  comes  in  occa- 
sionally to  play  my  piano — when  there's  something 
on  at  his  own  house  that  he  doesn't  like.  His  wife's 
the  sort  that  just  can't  be  quiet;  must  have  people 
around.  She's  crazy  about  bridge  and  he  isn't!  He 
called  me  on  the  telephone  just  before  you  came  to  ask 
if  he  might  come  over  after  dinner,  as  his  wife's  having 
people  in  for  bridge.  I  told  him  to  come  along.  I 
enjoy  his  playing;  he  really  plays  very  well  indeed. 
You  don't  mind?" 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Grace,  wondering  at  the  fate  that 
was  throwing  her  in  Bob  Cummings'  way  twice  in  one 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  137, 

day  and  a  day  in  which  she  had  been  torn  with  so 
many  conflicting  emotions. 

"If  you  have  the  slightest  feeling  about  meeting  him 
do  say  so;  you  may  always  be  perfectly  frank  with 
me." 

"Yes;  thank  you,  Miss  Reynolds.  But  I'd  love 
to  hear  Bob  play." 

When  they  were  again  in  the  living  room  Grace 
stood  for  a  moment  scanning  a  table  covered  with 
periodicals  and  new  books. 

"Since  I  came  home  I've  been  trying  to  find  out 
what's  going  on  in  America,  so  I  read  everything," 
Miss  Reynolds  explained.  "The  general  opinion 
seems  to  be  that  things  are  going  to  pot.  Right  under 
your  hand  there's  a  book  called  'Clues  to  a  New 
Social  Order,'  written  by  a  woman  named  Trenton. 
I  understand  she's  a  respectable  person  and  not  a 
short-haired  lunatic;  but  she  throws  everything  over- 
board!" 

"I've  read  it,"  said  Grace.  "It's  certainly  revolu- 
tionary." 

"All  of  that!"  Miss  Reynolds  retorted.  "But  it 
does  make  you  think !  Everybody's  restless  and  crazy 
for  excitement.  My  young  married  neighbors  all  be- 
long to  families  I  know  or  know  about;  live  in  very 
charming  houses  and  have  money  to  spend — too  much 
most  of  them — and  they  don't  seem  able  to  stand  an 
evening  at  home  by  themselves.  But  maybe  the  new 
way's  better.  Maybe  their  chances  of  happiness  are 
greater  where  they  mix  around  more.  I'm  curious 
about  the  whole  business.  These  young  folks  don't 
go  to  church.  Why  don't  they,  when  their  fathers 
and  grandfathers  always  did?  Their  parents  stayed 
at  home  in  the  evening.  My  father  used  to  grumble 
horribly  when  my  mother  tried  to  get  him  into  a  dress 


138  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

suit.  But  there  was  wickedness  then  too,  only  people 
just  whispered  about  it  and  tried  to  keep  it  from  the 
young  folks.  There  were  men  right  here  in  this  town 
who  sat  up  very  proper  in  the  churches  on  Sunday 
who  didn't  hesitate  to  break  all  the  commandments 
during  the  week.  But  now  you  might  think  people 
were  sending  up  fireworks  to  call  attention  to  their 
sins!  I  remember  the  first  time  I  went  to  a  dinner — 
that  was  thirty  years  ago — where  cocktails  were 
passed  around.  It  seemed  awful — the  very  end  of 
the  world.  When  I  told  my  mother  about  it  she  was 
horrified;  said  what  she  thought  of  the  hostess  who 
had  exposed  her  daughter  to  temptation!  But  now 
prohibition's  driven  everybody  to  drink.  I  asked  my 
chauffeur  yesterday  how  long  it  would  take  him  to 
get  me  a  quart  of  whiskey  and  he  said  about  half  an 
hour  if  I'd  let  him  use  the  car.  I  told  him  to  go  ahead 
and  sure  enough  he  was  back  with  it  in  twenty  min- 
utes. It  was  pretty  fair  whiskey,  too,"  Miss  Reynolds 
concluded.  "I  was  curious  to  see  just  how  it  felt  to 
break  the  law  and  I  confess  to  you,  my  dear,  that  I 
experienced  a  feeling  of  exultation!" 

She  reached  for  a  fresh  cigarette  and  lighted  it 
tranquilly. 

"Everybody's  down  on  the  young  people,"  said 
Grace,  confident  that  she  had  a  sympathetic  listener. 
"They  tell  us  all  the  time  that  we're  of  no  account." 

"There  are  pages  of  that  on  that  table,"  Miss  Rey- 
nolds replied.  "Well,  I'm  for  the  young  people;  par- 
ticularly you  girls  who  have  to  rustle  for  yourselves. 
If  I  stood  up  in  a  store  all  day  or  hammered  a  type- 
writer I'm  sure  I'd  feel  that  I  was  entitled  to  some 
pleasure  when  I  got  through.  Just  what  do  girls  do — 
I  don't  mean  girls  of  your  upbringing  exactly  and  your 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  139 

schooling, — but  less  lucky  girls  who  manage  their  own 
affairs  and  are  not  responsible  to  any  one." 

"I  haven't  been  at  work  long  enough  to  know  much 
about  that,"  said  Grace;  "but — nearly  every  girl  who's 
at -all  attractive  has  a  beau!" 

"Certainly!"  Miss  Reynolds  affirmed  promptly. 
"It's  always  been  so.  There's  nothing  new  in  that." 

"And  they  go  to  dances.  Every  girl  likes  to  dance. 
And  sometimes  they're  taken  out  to  dinner  or  to  a 
show  if  the  young  man  can  afford  it.  Girls  don't  have 
parties  at  home  very  much;  I  mean  even  where  they 
live  at  home.  There's  not  room  to  dance  usually;  the 
houses  are  too  small  and  it  isn't  much  fun.  And  if 
the  beau  has  a  car  he  takes  the  girl  driving." 

"And  these  girls  marry  and  have  homes  of  their 
own?  That  still  happens,  doesn't  it?" 

"Well,  a  good  many  girls  don't  want  to  marry, — 
not  the  young  men  they're  likely  to  meet.  Or  if  they 
do,  some  of  them  keep  on  working.  There  are  girls 
in  Shipley's  who  are  married  and  keep  their  jobs. 
They  like  the  additional  money;  they  can  wear  better 
clothes,  and  they  like  to  keep  their  independence." 

"There you  are!"  Miss  Reynolds  exclaimed.  "The 
old  stuff  about  woman's  place  being  in  the  home  isn't 
the  final  answer  any  more.  If  you  won't  think  it  im- 
pertinent just  how  do  you  feel  on  that  point,  Grace?" 

"Oh,  I  shouldn't  want  to  marry  for  a  long,  long 
time! — even  if  I  had  the  chance,"  Grace  answered 
with  the  candor  Miss  Reynolds  invited.  "I've  got  that 
idea  about  freedom  and  independence  myself!  I  hope 
I'm  not  shocking  you!" 

"Quite  the  contrary.  I  had  chances  to  marry  my- 
self," Miss  Reynolds  confessed.  "I  almost  did  marry 
when  I  was  twenty-two  but  decided  I  didn't  love  the 
young  man  enough.  I  had  these  ideas  of  freedom 


140  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

too,  you  see.  I  haven't  really  been  very  sorry;  I  sup- 
pose I  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  myself.  But  the  man 
I  almost  married  died  miserably,  an  awful  failure. 
I  have  nothing  to  regret.  How  about  college  girls — 
you  must  know  a  good  many?" 

"Oh,  a  good  many  co-eds  marry  as  soon  as  they 
graduate,  and  settle  down.  But  those  I've  known  are 
mostly  country  town  girls.  I  think  it's  different  with 
city  girls  who  have  to  go  to  work.  They're  not  so 
anxious  to  get  married." 

"The  fact  seems  to  be  that  marriage  isn't  just  the 
chief  goal  of  a  woman's  life  any  more.  Things  have 
reached  such  a  pass  that  it's  really  respectable  to  be  a 
spinster  like  me!  But  we  all  like  to  be  loved — we 
women,  don't  we?  And  it's  woman's  blessing  and  her 
curse  that  she  has  love  to  givel" 

She  was  silent  a  moment,  then  bent  forward  and 
touched  Grace's  hand.  There  was  a  mist  of  dreams 
in  the  girl's  lovely  eyes. 

"I  wish  every  happiness  for  you,  dear.  I  hope  with 
all  my  heart  that  love  will  come  to  you  in  a  great  way, 
which  is  the  only  way  that  counts!" 

VII 

A  moment  later  Bob  Cummings  appeared  and 
greeted  Grace  with  unfeigned  surprise  and  pleasure. 

"I'll  say  we  don't  need  to  be  introduced!  Grace 
and  I  are  old  friends,"  he  said,  still  unable  to  conceal 
his  mystification  at  finding  Grace  established  on  terms 
of  intimacy  in  his  neighbor's  house. 

"I  inveigled  Grace  here  without  telling  her  it  was  to 
be  a  musical  evening,"  said  Miss  Reynolds. 

"Oh,  I'd  have  come  just  the  same!"  laughed  Grace. 

"We'll  cut  the  music  now,"  said  Cummings.     "It 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  141 

will  be  a  lot  more  fun  to  talk.  I  tell  you,  Grace,  it's 
a  joy  to  have  a  place  of  refuge  like  this!  Miss  Rey- 
nolds is  the  kindest  woman  in  the  world.  I've  adopted 
her  as  my  aunt." 

He  bowed  to  Miss  Reynolds,  and  glanced  from  one 
to  the  other  with  boyish  eagerness  for  their  approval. 

"That's  the  first  I've  heard  of  it,"  Miss  Reynolds 
retorted  with  a  grieved  air.  "Why  don't  you  tell  him, 
Grace,  that  being  an  aunt  sounds  too  old.  You  might 
both  adopt  me  as  a  cousin  1" 

Grace  and  Bob  discussed  the  matter  with  mock 
gravity  and  decided  that  there  was  no  good  reason 
why  they  shouldn't  be  her  cousin. 

"Then  you  must  call  me  Cousin  Beulahl"  said  Miss 
Reynolds.  Her  nephews  and  nieces  were  widely  scat- 
tered she  said,  and  she  didn't  care  for  her  lawful 
cousins. 

Grace  talked  much  more  freely  under  the  stimulus 
of  Bob's  presence.  It  appeared  that  Miss  Reynolds 
had  not  known  Bob  until  she  moved  into  the  neigh- 
borhood and  their  acquaintance  had  begun  quite  ro- 
mantically. Miss  Reynolds  had  stopped  him  as  he 
was  passing  her  house  shortly  after  she  moved  in  and 
asked  him  whether  he  knew  anything  about  trees. 
Some  of  the  trees  on  her  premises  were  preyed  upofl 
by  malevolent  insects  and  quite  characteristically  she 
had  halted  him  to  ask  whether  he  could  recommend 
a  good  tree  doctor. 

"You  looked  intelligent;  so  I  took  a  chance,"  Miss 
Reynolds  explained.  "And  the  man  you  recom- 
mended didn't  hurt  the  trees  much— only  two  died. 
I've  bought  a  tree  book  and  hereafter  I'll  do  my  own 
spraying." 

When  Miss  Reynolds  spoke  of  Mrs.  Cummings  she 
referred  to  her  as  Evelyn,  explaining  to  Grace  that 


142  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

she  was  the  daughter  of  an  old  friend.  Evelyn,  it 
appeared,  was  arranging  a  Thanksgiving  party  for  one 
of  the  country  clubs.  Bob  said  she  was  giving  a  lot 
of  time  to  it;  it  was  going  to  be  a  brilliant  affair. 
Then  finding  that  Grace  did  not  know  Evelyn  and 
remembering  that  in  all  likelihood  her  guest  wouldn't 
be  invited  to  the  entertainment,  Miss  Reynolds  turned 
the  talk  into  other  channels.  It  was  evident  that  Bob 
was  a  welcome  visitor  to  Miss  Reynolds's  house  and 
that  she  understood  and  humored  him  and  indulged 
and  encouraged  his  chaffing  attitude  toward  her.  That 
he  should  make  a  practice  of  escaping  from  a  com- 
pany at  home  that  did  not  interest  him  was  just  like 
Bob!  He  was  lucky  to  have  a  neighbor  so  understand- 
ing and  amiable  as  Miss  Reynolds.  Perhaps  again  and 
often  she  would  meet  Bob  at  Miss  Reynolds's  when  he 
found  Evelyn  irksome.  Grace  rose  and  changed  her 
seat,  as  though  by  so  doing  she  were  escaping  from 
an  idea  she  felt  to  be  base,  an  affront  to  Miss  Rey- 
nolds, an  insult  to  Bob. 

"The  piano's  waiting,  Botf';  and  Miss  Reynolds  led 
the  way  to  the  music  room  across  the  hall. 

Bob  began,  as  had  always  been  his  way,  Grace  re- 
membered, by  improvising,  weaving  together  snatches 
of  classical  compositions,  with  whimsical  variations. 
Then,  after  a  pause,  he  sat  erect,  struck  into  Schu- 
mann's Nachtstuck,  and  followed  it  with  Handel's 
Largo  and  Rubenstein's  Melody  in  F,  all  associated 
in  her  memory  with  the  days  of  their  boy-and-girl 
companionship.  He  shook  his  head  impatiently,  waited 
a  moment  and  then  a  new  mood  laying  hold  of  him  he 
had  recourse  to  Chopin,  and  played  a  succession  of 
pieces  that  filled  the  room  with  color  and  light.  Grace 
watched  the  sure  touch  of  his  hands,  marveling  that  he 
had  been  so  faithful  to  the  music  that  was  his  passion 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  143 

as  a  boy.  It  had  always  been  his  solace  in  the  un- 
happy hours  to  which  he  had  been  a  prey  as  far  back 
as  she  could  remember.  There  was  no  questioning  his 
joy  in  the  great  harmonies.  He  was  endowed  with  a 
talent  that  had  been  cultivated  with  devotion,  and  he 
might  have  had  a  brilliant  career  if  fate  had  not 
swept  him  into  a  business  for  which  his  temperament 
wholly  unfitted  him. 

While  he  was  still  playing  Miss  Reynolds  was  called 
away  by  callers  and  left  the  room  quietly. 

"You  and  Bob  stay  here,"  she  whispered  to  Grace. 
"These  are  people  I  have  to  see." 

When  Bob  ended  with  a  Chopin  valse,  graceful 
and  capricious,  that  seemed  to  Grace  to  bring  the  joy 
of  spring  into  the  room,  he  swung  round,  noted  Miss 
Reynolds's  absence  and  then  the  closed  door. 

"My  audience  reduced  one-half!"  he  exclaimed 
ruefully.  "At  this  rate  I'll  soon  be  alone." 

"Don't  stop!     Those  last  things  were  marvelous!" 

"Just  one  more !  Do  you  remember  how  I  cornered 
you  one  day  in  our  old  house — you  were  still  wearing 
pigtails — and  told  you  I'd  learned  a  new  piece  and 
you  sat  like  a  dear  angel  while  I  played  this — my  first 
show  piece?" 

It  was  Mendelssohn's  Spring  Song,  and  she  thrilled 
to  think  that  he  hadn't  forgotten.  The  familiar  chords 
brought  back  vividly  the  old  times;  he  had  been  so 
proud  and  happy  that  day  in  displaying  his  prowess. 

Her  praise  was  sweet  to  him  then,  and  she  saw  that 
it  was  grateful  to  him  now. 

"You  play  wonderfully,  Bob;  it's  a  pity  you  couldn't 
have  kept  on!" 

"We  can't  do  as  we  please  in  this  world,"  he  said, 
throwing  himself  into  a  chair  and  reaching  for  the 
cigarettes.  "But  I  get  a  lot  of  fun  out  of  my  music. 


144  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

"I'm  not  sorry  I  stuck  to  it  as  I  did  from  the  time  I 
could  stretch  an  octave.  Are  you  spending  the  night 
with  Miss  Reynolds?" 

"No;  we're  not  quite  that  chummy.  Miss  Reynolds 
said  she'd  send  me  home." 

"Not  on  your  life  she  won't!  I'm  going  to  run  you 
out  in  my  roadster.  That's  settled.  I  don't  have  to 
show  up  at  home  till  midnight,  so  there's  plenty  of 
time.  You  and  Cousin  Beulah  seem  to  get  on 
famously." 

Grace  gave  a  vivacious  account  of  the  beginning  of 
her  acquaintance  with  Miss  Reynolds,  not  omitting 
the  ten  dollar  tip. 

He  laughed;  then  frowned  darkly. 

"I've  been  troubled  about  this  thing  ever  since  I 
met  you  today,"  he  said  doggedly;  "your  having  to 
quit  college,  I  mean.  I  feel  guilty,  terribly  guilty." 

"Please,  Bob!  don't  spoil  my  nice  evening  by  men- 
tioning those  things  again.  I  know  it  wasn't  your 
fault.  So  let's  go  on  being  friends  just  as  though 
nothing  had  happened." 

"Of  course.  But  it's  rotten  just  the  same.  You 
can  hardly  see  me  without " 

She  raised  her  hand  warningly. 

"Bob,  I'd  be  ashamed  if  anything  could  spoil  our 
friendship.  I'm  perfectly  satisfied  that  you  had  noth- 
ing to  do  with  father's  troubles.  So  please  forget  it." 

She  won  him  back  to  good  nature — she  had  always 
been  able  to  do  that — and  they  talked  of  old  times,  of 
the  companions  of  their  youth  in  the  park  neighbor- 
hood. This  was  safe  ground.  The  fact  that  they  were 
harking  back  to  their  childhood  and  youth  emphasized 
the  changed  circumstances  of  both  the  Durlands  and 
the  Cummingses.  It  didn't  seem  possible  that  he  was 
married;  it  struck  her  suddenly  that  he  didn't  appear 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  145 

at  all  married;  and  with  this  came  the  reflection  that 
he  was  the  kind  of  man  who  should  never  marry.  He 
should  have  kept  himself  free;  he  had  too  much 
temperament  for  a  harmonious  married  life. 

"You  don't  know  Evelyn,"  he  remarked  a  little 
absently.  And  then  as  though  Grace's  not  knowing 
Evelyn  called  for  an  explanation  he  added:  "She  was 
away  at  school  for  a  long  time." 

"What's  she  like,  Bob?"  Grace  asked.  "A  man 
ought  to  be  able  to  draw  a  wonderful  picture  of  his 
wife." 

"He  should  indeed!  Let  me  see.  She's  fair;  blue 
eyes;  tall,  slender;  likes  to  have  something  doing; 
wins  golf  cups;  a  splendid  dancer.  .  .  .  Oh, 
pshaw!  You  wouldn't  get  any  idea  from  that!"  he 
said  with  an  uneasy  laugh.  "She's  very  popular;  peo- 
ple like  her  tremendously." 

"I'm  sure  she's  lovely,  Bob.    Is  she  musical?" 

"Oh,  she  doesn't  care  much  for  music;  my  practic- 
ing bores  her.  She  used  to  sing  a  little  but  she's  given 
it  up." 

He  hadn't  said  that  he  hoped  she  might  meet 
Evelyn;  and  for  a  moment  Grace  resented  this.  She 
was  a  saleswoman  in  a  department  store  and  Evelyn 
had  no  time  for  an  old  friend  of  her  husband  who 
sold  ready-to-wear  clothing.  A  snob,  no  doubt,  self- 
centered  and  selfish;  Bob's  failure  to  suggest  a  meeting 
with  his  wife  made  it  clear  that  he  realized1  the 
futility  of  trying  to  bring  them  together. 

"You  haven't  missed  me  a  bit!"  cried  Miss  Rey- 
nolds appearing  suddenly.  "Is  the  music  all  over?" 

"Oh,  we've  been  reminiscing,"  said  Grace.  "And 
you  missed  the  best  of  Bob's  playing." 

"I'm  sorry  those  people  chose  tonight  for  their  call. 
It  was  Judge  Sanders,  my  lawyer,  and  his  wife,  old 


146  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

friends — but  I  didn't  dare  smoke  before  them! 
You've  got  to  stay  now  while  I  have  a  cigarette." 

When  Grace  said  presently  that  she  must  go  and 
Miss  Reynolds  reached  for  the  bell  to  ring  for  her  car, 
Bob  stayed  her  hand. 

"That's  all  fixed!  I'll  run  around  and  bring  my 
car  and  I'll  take  Grace  home.  Please  say  you  don't 
mind!" 

"Of  course,  I  don't  mind;  but  you  needn't  think 
you're  establishing  a  precedent.  The  next  time  Grace 
comes  I'll  lock  the  door  against  you  and  all  the  rest 
of  the  world!" 

While  Bob  went  for  his  car  Miss  Reynolds  warned 
Grace  that  she  was  likely  to  ask  her  to  the  house  again. 

"You'll  be  doing  me  a  favor  by  coming,  dear.  And 
remember,  if  there's  ever  anything  I  can  do  for  you 
you're  to  tell  me.  That's  a  promise.  I  should  be 
sorry  if  you  didn't  feel  that  you  could  come  to  me  with 
anything" 

VIII 

"It's  only  a  little  after  ten,"  said  Bob  as  he  started 
the  car,  "and  I'm  going  to  touch  the  edge  of  the  coun- 
try before  I  take  you  home.  Is  that  all  right?  How 
long's  it  been  since  we  went  driving  together?" 

"Centuries!     It  was  just  after  you  moved." 

"I  was  afraid  you'd  forgotten.  I  remember  the  eve- 
ning perfectly.  We  stopped  at  the  Country  Club  to 
dance  and  just  played  around  by  ourselves.  But  we 
did  have  a  good  time  1 " 

His  spirits  were  soaring;  through  his  talk  ran  an 
undercurrent  of  mischievous  delight  in  his  freedom. 
"It's  just  bully  to  see  you  again!"  he  repeated  several 
times.  "While  I  was  playing  I  kept  thinking  of  the 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  147 

royal  fun  we  used  to  have.  Do  you  remember  that  day 
our  families  had  a  picnic — we  were  just  kids  then — 
and  you  and  I  wandered  away  and  got  lost  looking 
for  wild  flowers  or  whatever  the  excuse  was;  and  a 
big  storm  came  up  and  our  mothers  gave  us  a  good 
raking  when  we  came  back  all  soaked  and  everybody 
was  scared  for  fear  we'd  tumbled  into  the  river!" 

To  Grace  the  remembrance  of  this  adventure  was 
not  nearly  so  thrilling  as  the  fact  that  Bob,  now  mar- 
ried, still  chortled  over  the  recollection  and  was  obvi- 
ously delighted  to  be  spending  an  evening  with  her 
while  his  wife  enjoyed  herself  in  her  own  fashion  at 
home.  He  would  probably  not  tell  Evelyn  that  he  had 
taken  the  daughter  of  his  father's  old  business  asso- 
ciate driving,  a  girl  who  clerked  in  a  department  store 
and  was  clearly  out  of  his  social  orbit.  Here  was  an- 
other episode  which  Grace  knew  she  dared  not  mention 
at  home;  Ethel  and  her  mother  would  be  horrified. 
But  Grace  was  happy  in  the  thought  that  Bob  Cum- 
mings  still  found  pleasure  in  her  company  even  if  she 
was  Number  Eighteen  at  Shipley's  and  took  and  ac- 
cepted tips  from  kindly-disposed  customers.  He 
halted  the  car  at  a  point  which  afforded  a  broad  sweep 
of  moonlit  field  and  woodland. 

"You  know,  Grace,  sometimes  I've  been  hungry 
and  positively  homesick  for  a  talk  with  you  such  as 
we've  had  tonight." 

"Please  drive  on!  You  mustn't  say  things  like 
that." 

"Well,  that's  the  way  I  feel  anyhow.  It's  queer 
how  I  haven't  been  able  to  do  anything  I  wanted  to 
with  my  life.  I'm  like  a  man  who's  been  pushed  on  a 
train  he  didn't  want  to  take  and  can't  get  off." 

Here  again  was  his  old  eager  appeal  for  sympathy. 
He  was  weak,  she  knew,  with  the  weakness  that  is  a 


148  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

defect  of  such  natures.  It  would  be  perfectly  easy 
to  begin  a  flirtation  with  him,  possibly  to  see  him 
frequently  in  some  such  way  as  she  saw  him  now.  It 
was  wrong  to  encourage  him,  but  her  curiosity  as  to 
how  far  he  would  go  overcame  her  scruples;  it  would 
do  no  harm  to  lead  him  on  a  little. 

"You  ought  to  be  very  happy,  Bob.  You  have 
everything  to  make  you  happy!" 

"I've  made  mistakes  all  down  the  line,"  he  an- 
swered with  a  flare  of  defiance.  "I  ought  to  have 
stood  out  against  father  when  he  put  me  into  the 
business.  I'm  no  good  at  it.  But  Merwin  made  a 
mess  of  things;  father's  got  him  on  a  ranch  out  in 
Montana  now,  and  Tom's  got  the  bug  to  be  a  doctor 
and  nothing  can  shake  him.  So  I  have  to  sit  at  a  desk 
every  day  doing  things  I  hate  and  doing  them  badly 
of  course.  And  for  the  rest  of  it !" 

He  stopped  short  of  the  rest  of  it,  which  Grace 
surmised  was  his  marriage  to  Evelyn.  It  was  his 
own  fault  that  he  had  failed  to  control  and  manage 
his  life.  He  might  have  resisted  his  father  when 
it  came  to  going  into  business  and  certainly  it  spoke 
for  a  feeble  will  if  he  had  married  to  gratify  his 
mother's  social  ambitions.  She  was  about  to  bid  him 
drive  on  when  he  turned  toward  her  saying: 

"I  feel  nearer  to  you,  Grace,  than  to  anybody  else 
in  the  world !  It  was  always  that  way.  It's  got  hold 
of  me  again  tonight — that  feeling  I  used  to  have  that 
no  matter  what  happened  you'd  know,  you'd  under- 
stand!" 

"Those  days  are  gone,  Bob,"  she  said,  allowing  a 
vague  wistfulness  to  creep  into  her  tone.  "I  mustn't 
see  you  any  more.  We've  both  got  our  lives  to  live. 
You  know  that  as  well  as  I  do.  You're  just  a  little 
down  tonight;  you  always  had  moods  like  this  when 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  149 

you  thought  the  world  was  against  you.  It's  just  a 
mood  and  everything  will  look  differently  tomorrow." 

"But  I've  got  to  see  you,  Grace;  not  often  maybe, 
but  now  and  then.  There'll  be  some  way  of  manag- 
ing." 

"No!"  she  exclaimed,  her  curiosity  fully  satisfied  as 
to  how  far  he  would  go.  "I'll  be  angry  with  you  in  a 
minute!  This  is  positively  the  last  time!" 

"Please  don't  say  that!"  he  pleaded.  "I  wouldn't 
offend  you  for  anything  in  the  world,  Grace." 

"I  know  you  wouldn't,  Bob,"  she  said  kindly.  "But 
there  are  some  things  that  won't  do,  you  know." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  he  conceded  with  the  petulance  of 
a  child  reluctantly  admitting  a  fault. 

"I'm  glad  you  still  like  me,  but  you  know  per- 
fectly well  this  kind  of  thing's  all  wrong.  I  mustn't 
see  you  again." 

"But  Grace,  what  if  I  just  have  to  see  youl" 

"Oh,  don't  be  so  silly!  You'll  never  just  have  to. 
You've  got  a  wife  to  tell  your  troubles  to." 

She  wasn't  sure  that  she  wanted  to  make  it  im- 
possible for  him  to  see  her  again  or  that  she  really 
preferred  that  he  tell  his  troubles  to  his  wife.  His 
troubles  were  always  largely  imaginary,  due  to  his 
sensitive  and  impressionable  nature. 

"You  needn't  remind  me  of  that!"  he  said. 

"Oh,  start  the  car!  Let's  all  be  cheerful !  We  might 
as  well  laugh  as  cry  in  this  world.  Did  you  see  the 
game  Saturday?  I  had  a  suitor  turn  up  from  the  uni- 
versity and  we  had  a  jolly  time." 

"Who  was  he?"  Bob  demanded  savagely. 

"Oh,  Bob,  you're  a  perfect  scream!  Well,  you 
needn't  be  jealous  of  him" 

"I'm  jealous  of  every  man  you  know!"  he  said. 

"Now,  you're  talking  like  a  crazy  man!     Suppose 


ISO  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

I  were  to  tell  you  I'm  jealous  of  Evelyn!  Please  re- 
member that  you  forgot  all  about  me  and  married  an- 
other girl  quite  cheerfully  with  a  church  wedding  and 
flowers  and  everything.  You  needn't  come  to  me 
now  for  consolation!" 

She  refused  to  hear  his  defense  from  this  charge, 
and  mocked  him  by  singing  snatches  of  college  songs 
till  they  were  in  town.  When  they  reached  the  Dur- 
land  house  she  told  him  not  to  get  out. 

"I  won't  tell  the  family  you  brought  me  home; 
they  wouldn't  understand.  Thanks  ever  so  much, 
Bob." 

Mrs.  Durland  and  Ethel  were  waiting  to  hear  of  her 
evening  with  Miss  Reynolds  and  she  told  everything 
except  that  she  had  met  Cummings  there.  She  satis- 
fied as  quickly  as  possible  their  curiosity  as  to  Miss 
Reynolds  and  her  establishment,  and  hurried  to  her 
room  eager  to  be  alone.  She  assured  herself  that  she 
could  never  love  Bob  Cummings,  would  never  have 
loved  him  even  if  their  families  had  remained  neigh- 
bors and  it  had  been  possible  to  marry  him.  He  wasn't 
her  type — the  phrase  pleased  her — and  in  trying  to  de- 
termine just  what  type  of  man  most  appealed  to  her 
Trenton  loomed  large  in  her  speculations.  Within  a 
few  weeks  she  had  encountered  two  concrete  instances 
of  the  instability  of  marriage.  Love,  it  seemed,  was 
a  fleeting  thing  and  loyalty  had  become  a  by-word. 
Bob  was  only  a  spoiled  boy,  shallow,  easily  influenced, 
yet  withal  endowed  with  graces  and  charms.  But 
graces  and  charms  were  not  enough.  She  brought  her- 
self to  the  point  of  feeling  sorry  for  Evelyn,  who  prob- 
ably refused  to  humor  and  pet  Bob  and  was  doubtless 
grateful  that  he  had  music  as  an  outlet  for  his 
emotions.  It  was  something,  though,  to  have  found 
that  he  hadn't  forgotten;  that  there  were  times  when 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  151 

he  felt  the  need  of  her.  She  wondered  whether  he 
would  take  her  word  as  final  and  make  no  further 
attempt  to  see  her. 

IX 

Grace  addressed  herself  sincerely  to  the  business 
of  bringing  all  the  cheer  possible  to  the  home  circle. 
She  overcame  her  annoyance  at  being  obliged  to  re- 
count the  details  of  her  work,  realizing  that  her 
mother  spent  her  days  at  home  and  save  for  the  small 
affairs  of  her  club  had  little  touch  with  the  world 
beyond  her  dooryard.  Ethel's  days  in  the  insurance 
office  were  much  alike  and  she  lacked  Grace's  gift 
for  making  a  good  story  out  of  a  trifling  incident. 
Even  Mr.  Durland  enjoyed  Grace's  account  of  the 
whims  and  foibles  of  the  women  she  encountered  at 
Shipley's.  Grace  reasoned  that  so  long  as  she  lived 
at  home  it  would  be  a  mistake  not  to  make  the  best 
of  things;  but  even  in  her  fits  of  repentance  she  had 
not  regretted  her  assertion  of  the  right  to  go  and  come 
unquestioned. 

In  the  week  following  she  left  the  house  on  two 
evenings  saying  merely  that  she  was  going  out.  On 
one  of  these  occasions  she  returned  a  book  to  the  pub- 
lic library;  on  another  she  walked  aimlessly  for  an 
hour.  These  unexplained  absences  were  to  determine 
whether  her  new  won  liberty  was  really  firmly  estab- 
lished. Nothing  was  said  either  by  her  mother  or 
Ethel,  though  it  was  clear  that  they  were  mystified  by 
her  early  return,  though  not  to  the  point  of  asking 
where  she  had  been.  On  a  third  evening  she  an- 
nounced at  the  table  that  she  had  earned  a  good  bonus 
that  day  and  would  celebrate  by  taking  them  all  to 
the  vaudeville.  Mrs.  Durland  and  Ethel  gave  plausi- 


152  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

ble  excuses  for  declining,  but  not  without  expressing 
their  appreciation  of  the  invitation  in  kind  terms, 
and  Grace  and  her  father  set  off  alone. 

In  her  cogitations  Grace  was  convinced  that  noth- 
ing short  of  a  miracle  could  ever  improve  materially 
the  family  fortunes.  They  had  the  house  free  of 
encumbrance,  but  it  needed  re-roofing,  and  the  fur- 
nishings were  old  and  dingy.  Mrs.  Durland  had 
worked  out  a  budget  by  which  to  manage  the  family 
finances,  and  it  was  clear  enough  to  Grace  that  what 
she  and  Ethel  earned  would  just  about  take  care  of 
the  necessary  running  expenses.  Mrs.  Durland  had 
received  for  many  years  an  income  of  five  hundred 
dollars  a  year  from  her  father's  estate,  and  this  Grace 
learned  had  always  been  spent  on  the  family.  The 
last  payment  had  been  put  away,  Mrs.  Durland  ex- 
plained to  her  daughters,  to  help  establish  Roy  after 
he  completed  his  law  course.  It  was  impressed  upon 
Grace  constantly  that  all  the  hopes  of  bettering  the 
family  conditions  centered  in  Roy.  Ethel  shared, 
though  in  less  degree,  her  monther's  confidence  in  the 
son  of  the  house.  Grace  kept  silent  when  Roy's  pros- 
pects were  discussed,  feeling  that  it  would  serve  no 
purpose  to  express  her  feeling  that  Roy  had  no  spe- 
cial talent  for  the  law,  and  even  if  he  had  the  Dur- 
lands  were  without  family  or  business  connections 
that  could  possibly  assist  him  in  establishing  himself. 


Grace's  meeting  with  Bob  Cummings  served  to 
sharpen  her  sense  of  social  differentiations.  Her 
mother  had  always  encouraged  the  idea  that  the  Dur- 
lands  were  a  family  of  dignity,  entitled  to  the  highest 
consideration;  but  stranded  as  they  were  in  a  neigh- 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  153 

borhood  that  had  no  lines  of  communication  with 
polite  society,  Mrs.  Durland  now  rarely  received  an 
invitation  even  to  the  houses  of  her  old  friends. 
Grace's  excursions  in  social  science  had  made  her 
aware  of  the  existence  of  such  a  thing  as  class  con- 
sciousness; but  she  had  never  questioned  that  she 
belonged  to  the  favored  element.  The  thought  as- 
sailed her  now  that  as  a  wage-earning  girl  she  had 
a  fixed  social  status  from  which  there  was  little  like- 
lihood she  would  ever  escape.  The  daughters  of 
prominent  families  she  waited  on  at  Shipley's  were 
no  better  looking,  no  more  intelligent  and  had  no 
better  social  instincts  than  she  possessed;  but  she  was 
as  completely  shut  off  from  any  contact  with  them 
as  though  she  were  the  child  of  a  Congo  chieftain. 
With  all  her  romanticism  she  failed  to  picture  the  son 
of  one  of  the  first  families  making  her  acquaintance 
and  introducing  her  to  his  family  as  the  girl  he  meant 
to  marry.  Several  young  men  with  whom  she  became 
acquainted  in  Shipley's  had  asked  her  to  go  to  dances, 
or  for  Sunday  drives.  Irene  sniffed  when  Grace  re- 
ported these  overtures. 

"Oh,  they're  nice  fellows;  but  what  have  they  got 
to  offer?  They're  never  going  to  get  anywhere.  You 
can't  afford  to  waste  your  time  on  them." 

However,  Grace  accepted  one  of  these  invitations. 
The  young  man  took  her  to  a  public  dance  hall  where 
the  music  was  good,  but  the  patrons  struck  her  as 
altogether  uninspiring;  and  she  resented  being  in- 
spected by  a  police  matron.  She  danced  with  her 
escort  all  evening,  and  then  they  went  to  a  cafeteria 
for  sandwiches  and  soda  water. 

Irene  had  warned  Grace  that  such  young  fellows 
were  likely  to  prove  fresh;  that  they  always  expected 
to  kiss  a  girl  good  night,  and  might  even  be  insulting; 


154  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

but  this  particular  young  man  was  almost  pathetically 
deferential.  Grace  was  ashamed  of  herself  for  not 
inviting  him  to  call,  but  she  shrank  from  encouraging 
his  further  attentions;  he  might  very  easily  become  a 
nuisance. 

Again,  she  went  to  Rosemary  Terrace,  a  dance 
and  supper  place  on  the  edge  of  town,  in  company  with 
a  young  man  who  carried  a  bottle  on  his  hip  to  which 
he  referred  with  proud  complacency,  as  though  it 
were  the  symbol  of  his  freedom  as  an  American 
citizen.  The  large  dance  hall  was  crowded;  the 
patrons  were  clearly  the  worse  for  their  indulgence  in 
the  liquor  carried  by  their  escorts;  the  dancing  of 
many  of  the  visitors  was  vulgar;  the  place  was  hot  and 
noisy  and  the  air  heavy  with  tobacco  smoke.  Grace's 
young  man  kept  assuring  her  that  the  Rosemary  was 
the  sportiest  place  in  town;  you  didn't  see  any  dead 
ones  there.  His  desire  to  be  thought  a  sport  would 
have  been  amusing  if  he  hadn't  so  strenuously  insisted 
upon  explaining  that  he  was  truly  of  the  great  com- 
pany of  the  elect  to  whom  the  laws  of  God  and  man 
were  as  nothing.  When  Grace  asked  to  be  taken 
home  he  hinted  that  there  were  other  places  presum- 
ably even  less  reputable,  to  which  they  might  go.  But 
he  did  not  press  the  matter,  when,  reaching  the  Dur- 
land  gate,  he  tried  to  kiss  her  and  she,  to  mark  the 
termination  of  their  acquaintance,  slapped  him. 

These  experiences  were,  she  reflected,  typical  of 
what  she  must  look  forward  to  unless  she  compromised 
with  her  conscience  and  accepted  Irene's  philosophy 
of  life. 

She  had  replied  immediately  to  Trenton's  letter 
from  St.  Louis  with  a  brief  note  which  she  made  as 
colorless  as  possible.  She  knew  that  it  was  for  her 
to  decide  whether  to  see  more  of  him  or  drop  the  ac- 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  155 

quaintance.  He  was  not  a  man  to  force  his  atten- 
tions upon  any  young  woman  if  he  had  reason  to 
think  them  unwelcome.  Hearing  nothing  from  him 
for  several  days  she  had  decided  that  he  had  settled 
the  matter  himself  when  she  received  a  note  explain- 
ing that  he  had  been  very  busy  but  would  start  East 
the  next  day.  He  hoped  she  would  dine  with  him  on 
Thursday  night  and  named  the  Indianapolis  hotel 
where  her  reply  would  reach  him. 

"Don't  turn  him  down!"  exclaimed  Irene  when 
Grace  told  her  Trenton  was  coming.  "He  wouldn't 
ask  you  if  he  didn't  want  you.  Tommy  skipped  for 
New  York  last  night  so  it's  a  safe  bet  that  Ward's 
stopping  on  purpose  to  see  you." 

"I  don't  know — "  began  Grace  doubtfully. 

"Oh,  have  a  heart!  There's  no  harm  in  eating  din- 
ner with  a  married  man  in  a  hotel  where  you'd  get  by 
even  if  all  your  family  walked  in  and  caught  you!  Of 
course  Tommy  can't  appear  with  me  at  any  public 
place  here  at  home,  but  it's  different  with  you  and 
Ward.  He  doesn't  know  a  dozen  people  in  town." 

"I  wouldn't  want  to  offend  him,"  Grace  replied 
slowly,  a  prey  to  uncertainty;  but  she  withheld  her 
acceptance  until  the  morning  of  the  day  of  Trenton's 
arrival. 


XI 


When  she  reached  the  Hotel  Sycamore  at  seven 
o'clock  he  was  waiting  for  her  at  the  entrance. 

"On  time  to  the  minute!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  took 
you  at  your  word  that  you'd  rather  not  have  me  call 
for  you." 

"Thanks;  but  it  was  easier  this  way,"  she  answered. 

He  had  been  so  much  in  her  thoughts,  and  she  had 


156  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

considered  him  from  so  many  angles  that  at  first  she 
was  shy  in  his  presence.  But  by  the  time  they  were 
seated  in  the  dining  room  her  diffidence  was  passing. 
He  appeared  younger  than  at  The  Shack,  but  rather 
more  distinguished;  it  might  have  been  the  effect 
of  his  dinner  coat;  and  she  noticed  that  he  was  the 
only  man  in  the  room  who  had  dressed  for  dinner. 

"You've  been  busy  of  course  and  I've  been  up  to 
my  eyes  in  work,"  he  said;  "so  we'll  dismiss  business. 
Shall  we  talk  of  the  weather  or  see  what  we  can  do 
to  save  the  world  from  destruction!" 

"Oh,  I've  had  a  lot  of  ideas  about  things  since 
I  saw  you,"  she  said.  "Half  of  them  were  right  and 
half  wrong." 

"Oh,"  he  exclaimed,  "our  old  friend  conscience  I" 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  meeting  his  gaze  squarely.  "I've 
been  trying  to  decide  a  thousand  questions,  but  I've 
got  nowhere!" 

"Terrible!  But  I'm  glad  to  find  that  you're  so 
human;  most  of  us  are  like  that.  Honest,  now,  you 
weren't  at  all  sure  you  wanted  to  see  me  tonight!" 

"No,"  she  assented  under  his  smiling  gaze;  "I 
didn't  send  the  answer  to  your  note  till  nearly  noon!" 

"So  I  noticed  from  the  hotel  stamp  on  the  envelope  I 
But  I'd  have  been  very  much  disappointed  if  you'd 
refused." 

His  tone  was  too  serious  for  comfort.  She  felt  that 
she  must  have  a  care  lest  he  discover  the  attraction  he 
had  for  her. 

"Oh,  you'd  have  got  over  it!  You  know  you  would. 
You  needn't  have  dined  alone — Tommy's  out  of  town, 
but  there's  Irene ! " 

"Much  as  I  admire  Irene  she  would  be  no  substi- 
tute! I  was  sincerely  anxious  to  see  you  again,  if 
only  to  make  sure  you  were  still  on  earth." 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  157. 

"Oh,  I  have  no  intention  of  leaving  itl" 

She  was  finding  it  easy  to  be  flippant  with  him. 
Whatever  liking  he  had  for  her  was  no  doubt  due 
to  the  seriousness  she  had  manifested  in  their  talk 
at  The  Shack.  And  the  effect  of  that  talk  had  been 
to  awaken  a  sympathy  and  interest  on  both  sides;  in 
her  case  she  knew  that  it  was  trifle  more  than  that. 
She  was  sorry  now  that  she  had  kissed  him;  she  was 
puzzled  that  she  had  ever  had  the  courage  to  do  it, 
though  it  was  such  a  kiss  as  she  might  have  given  any 
man  older  than  herself  in  the  same  circumstances. 
She  had  heard  of  women,  very  young  women,  who  were 
able  to  exert  a  strong  influence  upon  men  much  older 
than  themselves.  She  felt  for  the  first  time  the  power 
of  sex — at  least  she  had  never  before  thought  of  it  in 
the  phrases  that  now  danced  through  her  brain.  If 
he  was  annoyed  not  to  find  her  as  interesting  and 
agreeable  as  at  The  Shack  he  was  successful  in  con- 
cealing his  disappointment.  He  continued  to  be  unfail- 
ingly courteous,  meeting  her  rejoinders  with  character- 
istic mockeries  until  she  began  to  feel  ashamed  of  her 
lack  ©f  friendliness.  He  deserved  better  of  her  than 
this. 

"We're  going  to  the  theatre;  did  you  know  that?" 
he  asked  toward  the  end  of  the  dinner.  "And  we're 
going  to  be  fashionably  late." 

"  'Stolen  Stars ! '  Oh,  that's  perfectly  marvelous," 
she  exclaimed.  "I've  been  just  dying  to  see  it!" 

"Then  it's  lucky  that  you  can  live  and  see  itl" 
Through  the  performance  the  thought  kept  recurring 
to  her  that  he  meant  to  be  kind.  No  one  had  ever 
been  so  kind  or  shown  her  so  flattering  a  deference  as 
Ward  Trenton.  She  was  proud  to  be  sitting  beside 
him.  When  the  lights  went  up  after  the  first  act  a  buzz 
of  talk  in  one  of  the  boxes  drew  her  attention,  and  she 
caught  a  glimpse  of  Bob  Cummings.  At  the  same 


158  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

moment  he  saw  her  and  bowed.  There  were  six  in  the 
party  and  she  decided  that  Bob's  wife  was  the  young 
woman  he  most  rarely  addressed.  Evelyn  was  not 
beautiful;  she  was  gratified  to  have  Trenton's  con- 
firmation of  her  opinion  on  this  point  when  she  di- 
rected his  attention  to  the  box  party. 

"I'll  be  here  for  several  days,"  said  Trenton  when 
they  reached  the  Durland  house  and  he  stood  for  a 
moment  on  the  doorstep.  "Could  you  give  me  another 
evening?  Tomorrow  night  I'm  tied  up  with  a  busi- 
ness appointment,  but  may  we  say  day  after  to- 
morrow?" 

"Yes,"  she  assented,  "but  isn't  there  danger  of  see- 
ing too  much  of  me?" 

"I'll  take  the  risk!"  he  said.  "And  thank  you  ever 
so  much." 

She  fell  asleep  glad  that  she  was  to  see  him  again. 


CHAPTER  SEVEN 


THE  second  evening  with  Trenton  was  very  like 
the  first  except  that  after  dinner  at  the  Sycamore  they 
attended  a  concert  given  by  a  world-famous  violinist. 
Again  as  under  the  spell  of  Bob  Cummings'  playing 
at  Miss  Reynolds',  Grace  was  caught  away  into  a 
wonder-world,  where  she  wandered  like  a  disembodied 
spirit  seeking  some  vestige  of  a  personality  that  had 
not  survived  her  transition  to  another  realm.  She 
was  assailed  by  new  and  fleeting  emotions,  in  which 
she  studied  Trenton  and  tried  to  define  her  attitude 
toward  him,  conscious  that  the  time  might  be  close 
at  hand  when  some  definition  would  be  necessary. 
Now  and  then  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  rapt  look 
and  saw  the  lines  about  his  mouth  tighten.  Once  he 
clasped  his  hands  as  though,  in  response  to  some  inner 
prompting,  he  were  attempting  by  a  physical  act  to 
arrest  some  disturbing  trend  of  his  thoughts. 

There  was  a  fineness  in  his  face  that  she  had  not 
before  fully  appreciated,  and  it  was  his  fineness  and 
nobility,  Grace  assured  herself,  that  appealed  to  her. 
Then  there  were  moments  when  she  was  undecided 
whether  she  loved  or  hated  him,  not  knowing  that 
this  is  a  curious  phase  which  women  of  highly  sensi- 
tive natures  often  experience  at  the  first  conscious- 
ness of  a  man's  power  over  them.  She  saw  man  as 
the  hunter  and  woman  as  his  prey.  Then  with  a  quick 
revulsion  she  freed  herself  of  the  thought  and  drifted 
happily  with  the  tide  of  harmony. 

When  they  left  the  theatre  Trenton  asked  whether 

159 


160  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

she  felt  like  walking.  The  night  was  clear  and  the 
air  keen  and  stimulating. 

"Of  course;  it  would  be  a  shame  to  ride!  That 
music  would  carry  me  a  thousand  miles,"  she  an- 
swered. 

As  soon  as  they  were  free  of  the  crowd  he  began 
to  talk  of  music,  its  emotional  appeal,  its  power  to 
dissociate  the  hearer  from  material  things. 

"I  never  felt  it  so  much  before,"  he  said.  "I'm 
afraid  there's  not  much  poetry  in  me.  I'm  not  much 
affected  by  things  that  I  can't  reduce  to  a  formula, 
and  I'm  a  little  suspicious  of  anything  that  lifts  me 
off  the  earth  as  that  fiddle  did.  If  I  exposed  myself 
to  music  very  often  it  would  ruin  me  for  business." 

"Oh,  never  that!  I  feel  music  tremendously;  every- 
body must!  It  wakes  up  all  manner  of  hopes  and 
ambitions  even  if  they  don't  live  very  long.  That 
violin  really  made  me  want  to  climb!" 

"Yes;  I  can  understand  that.  For  a  few  minutes 
I  was  conscious  myself  of  reaching  up  the  ladder  for 
a  higher  round.  It's  dangerous  to  feel  so  keenly.  I 
wonder  if  there  ever  comes  a  time  when  we  don't  feel 
any  more — really  feel  a  desire  to  bump  against  the 
stars;  when  the  spirit  goes  dead  and  for  the  rest  of 
our  days  we  just  settle  into  a  rut  with  no  hope 
of  ever  pulling  out?  I  have  a  dread  of  that.  It's 
ghastly  to  think  of.  Marking  time!  Going  through 
the  motions  of  being  alive  when  you're  really  dead!" 

"Oh,  don't  even  think  of  it!  You  could  never  be 
like  that!" 

"Maybe  I'm  like  that  now!" 

"You're  clear  off  the  key!"  she  cried.  "Of  course 
you're  not  at  the  end  of  things.  It's  wicked  to  talk 
that  way." 

"Do  you  really  think  that?"  he  asked  eagerly.  "Do 
you  see  any  hope  ahead  for  me?" 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  161 

"You  know  you  see  it  yourself!  We  wouldn't 
any  of  us  go  on  living  if  we  didn't  see  some  hope 
ahead."  Then  with  greater  animation  she  added: 

"You're  not  a  man  to  sit  down  at  the  roadside  and 
burst  into  tears  because  things  don't  go  to  suit  you! 
I  don't  believe  you're  that  kind  at  all.  If  you  are 
— well,  I'm  disappointed!" 

"Now  you've  got  me  with  my  back  to  the  wall!" 
he  laughed.  "No  man  ever  wants  a  woman  to  think 
him  a  coward.  I'll  keep  away  from  all  music  here- 
after except  the  snappiest  jazz.  But  give  music  the 
benefit  of  the  doubt;  it  may  not  have  been  the  fiddle 
at  all!" 

"More  likely  you  ate  too  much  dinner!" 

"Impossible!  The  ostrich  has  nothing  on  me  when 
it  comes  to  digestion.  Maybe  you're  the  cause  of 
my  depression!  Please  consider  that  for  a  moment!" 

"Oh,  that's  terribly  unkind!  If  I  depress  you  this 
must  be  our  last  meeting." 

"You  know  I  didn't  mean  that,  it's  because " 

"Don't  begin  becausing!  You  know  you're  in  a 
tight  corner;  you  hint  that  I've  given  you  a  bad 
evening  just  by  sitting  beside  you  at  a  concert — and 
a  very  beautiful  concert  at  that." 

"The  mistake  is  mine!  You  haven't  the  slightest 
respect  for  my  feelings.  I  show  you  the  wounds  in 
my  very  soul  and  you  laugh  at  them." 

"I  certainly  am  not  going  to  weep  my  eyes  out 
merely  because  you  let  a  few  bars  of  music  throw 
you.  I  had  a  fit  of  the  blues  too;  several  times  I 
thought  I  was  going  to  cry.  How  embarrassed  you'd 
have  been!" 

"No;  I  should  have  held  your  hand  until  you  re- 
gained your  composure!" 

"Then  we'd  both  have  been  led  out  by  the  ushers!" 

He  joined  with  her  in  playing  whimsically  upon  all 


162  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

the  possibilities  of  their  ejection.  They  would  have 
been  arrested  for  disturbing  a  public  gathering  and 
their  names  would  have  figured  in  the  police  reports, 
probably  with  pictorial  embellishments.  This  sort 
of  fooling  was  safe;  she  thought  perhaps  he  meant  to 
maintain  the  talk  on  an  impersonal  plane  but  in  a 
moment  he  said: 

"I'm  going  away  tomorrow,  first  home  to  Pittsburgh 
for  about  a  week;  then  to  New  York.  I  may  not 
get  back  here  for  two  or  three  weeks;  I'm  mixed  up 
in  some  things  that  I  can't  neglect.  I'd  like  to  think 
you'll  miss  me!" 

"Oh,  I  always  miss  my  friends  when  they  go  away," 
she  replied.  Then  realizing  the  banality  of  this  she 
laughed  and  added:  "How  silly  that  sounded!" 

"Then  you  mean  you  wouldn't  miss  me?" 

"Of  course  I  didn't  mean  that!" 

Under  a  street  lamp  she  saw  in  his  face  once  more 
the  grave  troubled  look  that  she  had  observed  at  inter- 
vals during  the  concert.  It  was  foolish  to  question 
now  that  his  interest  in  her  was  something  more  than 
a  passing  fancy.  Her  thoughts  flew  to  the  other 
woman,  the  wife  of  whom  he  had  spoken  at  The 
Shack  only  to  apologize  for  it  in  his  letter  from  St. 
Louis.  He  was  thinking  of  her  of  course;  it  was  im- 
possible for  him  to  ignore  the  fact  that  he  had  a  wife. 
And  again  as  so  many  times  before  she  speculated 
as  to  whether  he  might  not  still  love  this  woman 
and  be  seeking  diversion  elsewhere  out  of  sheer  lone- 
liness. But  as  they  passed  into  the  shadows  again, 
her  hand  resting  lightly  on  his  arm,  she  experienced 
suddenly  a  strong  desire  to  be  kind  to  him.  She  was 
profoundly  moved  by  the  thought  that  it  was  in  her 
power  to  pour  out  to  him  in  great  measure  the  affection 
and  comradeship  which  he  had  confessed  he  hungered 
for. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  163 

They  had  crossed  the  canal  bridge  and  were  near- 
ing  the  Durland  house.  Trenton  was  accommodating 
himself  perforce  to  her  rapid  pace.  The  tonic  air  kept 
her  pulses  throbbing.  She  was  sure  that  she  loved 
this  man;  that  the  difference  in  their  years  was  as 
nothing  weighed  against  his  need  for  her.  Tonight, 
she  knew,  marked  a  crisis  in  their  relationship.  If  she 
parted  from  him  without  making  it  clear  that  she 
wished  never  to  see  him  again  she  would  be  putting 
herself  wholly  at  the  mercy  of  a  fate  that  might  bear 
her  up  or  down.  With  only  a  block  more  to  traverse 
she  battled  with  herself,  summoned  all  her  courage  to 
resist  him,  only  to  find  that  her  will  was  unequal  to 
the  contest. 

Deep  hi  her  heart  she  did  not  want  to  send  him 
away  with  no  hope  of  seeing  him  again.  He  was 
her  one  link  with  the  great  world  beyond  the  city  in 
which,  without  his  visits  to  look  forward  to,  she  was 
doomed  to  lead  a  colorless,  monotonous  existence. 
She  was  moved  by  a  compassion  for  him,  poignantly 
tender,  that  swept  away  all  sense  of  reality  and  tran- 
scended the  bounds  of  time  and  space.  The  very 
thought  of  losing  him,  of  not  knowing  where  he  would 
be  in  the  endless  tomorrows,  only  that  she  would 
never  see  him  again,  was  like  a  pain  hi  her  heart. 
The  need  in  him  spoke  to  the  need  in  her — for  com- 
panionship, help,  affection. 

They  seemed  vastly  isolated  in  the  quiet  street,  as 
though  the  world  had  gone  away  and  left  them  to 
settle  their  affairs  with  only  the  stars  for  witnesses. 
It  had  been  easy  to  parry  Bob  Cummings's  attempts 
to  assume  a  lover-like  attitude  toward  her.  But  with 
Trenton  this  would  be  impossible.  With  him  it  would 
be  necessary  to  state  in  the  plainest  terms  that  their 
acquaintance  must  end. 

Nothing  had  been  said  since  her  last  remark  and 


164  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

if  she  meant  to  thrust  him  away  from  her  she  must 
act  quickly.  In  a  winning  fashion  of  his  own  he  was 
frank  and  forthright.  She  found  it  difficult  to  antici- 
pate him  and  prepare  her  replies.  There  was  no  leer 
in  him  and  he  did  not  take  refuge  in  timid  gallantries; 
he  addressed  her  as  a  man  who  felt  that  he  had  a 
right  to  a  hearing.  And  this,  in  her  confused,  be- 
wildered senses,  gave  dignity  to  the  situation.  He 
loved  her  and  she  loved  him — she  was  sure  she  loved 
him — and  her  heart  was  in  a  wild  tumult.  She  was 
afraid  to  speak  lest  the  merest  commonplace  might 
betray  her  eagerness  to  confess  her  love  for  him. 

He  stepped  in  front  of  her  and  clasped  the  hand 
that  lay  lightly  on  his  arm. 

"I've  got  to  say  it;  I  must  say  it  now,"  he  said  in 
grave  even  tones.  "No  woman  ever  meant  to  me 
what  you  mean.  The  first  night  I  met  you  I  knew 
it  had  come — the  thing  I  had  hoped  for — and  some- 
times had  dreaded, — a  woman  I  could  know  as  I've 
never  known  any  woman,  not  my  wife  or  any  other! 
After  I  left  you  I  couldn't  get  you  out  of  my  mind." 
He  paused  for  an  instant,  then  went  on  hurriedly  with 
undisguised  intensity  of  feeling.  "You  may  think  me 
mad  when  I've  seen  you  so  little;  and  I  know  I  have 
no  right  to  love  you  at  all!  But  I  do  love  you!  I 
want  you  to  belong  to  me ! " 

A  gust  of  wind  caught  up  a  mass  of  leaves  from  the 
gutter  and  flung  them  about  their  feet  as  though 
to  remind  them  of  the  mutability  of  all  things.  He 
had  said  that  he  loved  her;  almost  savagely  he  had 
demanded  that  she  give  herself  to  him.  It  was  in- 
credible that  he  cared  so  much,  that  his  desire  for  her 
could  be  so  great. 

He  released  her  hand  as  though  in  sign  that  he 
wanted  her  to  speak  without  compulsion.  He  waited 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  165 

quietly,  his  shoulders  thrown  a  little  forward,  and  in 
the  dim  starlight  she  saw  his  eyes,  bright  and  eager, 
searching  her  own. 

"You  know  I  care,"  she  said  softly. 

The  words  fell  from  her  lips  inevitably;  no  other 
reply  was  possible,  and  it  seemed  that  a  great  weight 
had  lifted  from  her  heart  and  that  in  entrusting  her- 
self to  him  she  had  found  security  and  peace.  She 
questioned  nothing,  feeling  his  arms  about  her,  his 
kiss  warm  on  her  lips.  All  her  doubts  were  lost  in 
the  joy  of  the  moment  in  which  he  had  confessed 
his  love  for  her.  It  was  a  strange  place  for  the 
pledging  of  love  and  the  moment  was  not  to  be  pro- 
longed. 

"We  must  go  on,  dear,"  she  said  laying  her  cheek 
against  his  for  an  instant.  The  touch  of  her  face 
caused  him  to  clasp  her  again. 

"Oh,  my  dearest  one!"  he  cried  hoarsely. 

As  they  went  on,  loitering  to  delay  the  moment  of 
parting,  they  caught  hands  like  happy  children. 

"I  don't  see  how  you  can  love  me,"  she  said  with 
the  anxiety  of  new  love  for  confirmations  and  assur- 
ances. "I  don't  belong  to  your  world." 

"There's  the  strangest  thing  of  all!"  he  exclaimed. 
"We  are  born  into  a  new  world  that  is  all  ours.  We 
have  inherited  all  the  kingdoms  tonight." 

"And  the  stars  up  there — do  they  shine  just  for 
us?"  she  asked,  bringing  herself  closer  to  him.  "And 
can  we  keep  everyone  else  out  of  our  world?  I  want 
it  all  to  be  our  very  own.  Oh,  it's  so  sweet,  so  won- 
derful!" 

"It's  a  miracle  beyond  any  words,"  he  said,  "to 
know  that  you  care.  It's  easy  for  me  to  love  you; 
I  loved  you  in  that  very  first  hour  we  spent  together. 


166  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

We  don't  account  for  things  like  that,  that  come  so 
suddenly  and  without  warning;  we  merely  accept 
them.  I've  fought  this;  I  want  you  to  know  that  I've 
fought  it." 

"Oh,  so  have  I!     But— why  did  you  fight  it?" 

Her  voice  betrayed  her  confused  emotions.  Her 
sense  of  right  was  as  nothing  against  the  belief  that 
he  loved  her  and  that  she  loved  him.  A  masterful  tide 
had  caught  them  up  and  borne  them  far,  leaving  them 
islanded  on  territory  remote  and  touched  with  a  mysti- 
cal light  that  souls  had  never  known  before. 

She  was  now  fully  persuaded  that  henceforth  her 
life  was  to  be  bound  up  with  his;  that  until  death 
took  one  or  the  other  they  would  never  face  separa- 
tion. Space  and  distance  were  as  nothing;  if  he 
went  to  far  and  waste  places  there  would  be  still 
the  strong  spiritual  tie  which  it  pleased  her  to  think 
was  the  real  bond  between  them — something  which, 
in  her  absolute  surrender,  she  felt  to  be  above  all  laws 
of  men  and  of  kinship  with  heavenly  things.  It  struck 
her  as  odd  that  she  was  able  so  thoroughly  to  analyze 
her  sensations,  seeking  and  finding  explanation  and 
justification  cleansed  of  all  passion. 

"I  know  I  have  no  right  to  your  love;  none  what- 
ever," he  said  steadily.  "There  are  people  who  would 
call  me  a  scoundrel  for  saying  what  I  have  just  said 
to  you.  But  every  man  in  my  plight  feels  that  his 
case  is  different.  I've  thought  of  all  this  in  the  plain- 
est terms,  not  sparing  myself." 

"It  would  be  like  you  to  do  that,"  she  replied. 

Now  that  she  had  taken  him  for  her  lover  she 
saw  him  as  a  paragon  of  generosity  and  nobility.  He 
would  not  spare  himself;  she  was  anxious  to  apply 
balm  to  his  conscience,  to  make  him  understand  that 
her  happiness  was  so  complete  that  nothing  else  mat- 
tered. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  167 

"Just  so  yeu  love  me!"  she  said  gently.  "Nothing 
could  be  so  dear  as  just  knowing  that  you  care.  Oh, 
do  I  mean  so  much  to  you?" 

"Everything,"  he  exclaimed  and  lifted  her  hand  and 
kissed  it. 

"That's  the  way  it  has  to  be — everything  or  noth- 
ing. I  never  loved  any  one  before." 

"I'm  so  glad!  I  was  afraid  to  ask  you  that.  I  had 
even  thought  there  might  be  some  one  else — some 
younger  man " 

"Stop!  We're  not  going  to  talk  of  ages,"  she 
laughed,  with  a  quick  gesture  laying  her  hand  for  a 
moment  against  his  lips.  "It  must  be  understood 
right  now  that  you're  not  a  day  over  twenty-five." 

"You're  going  to  spoil  me!  And  you  don't  know 
how  much  I  want  to  be  spoiled." 

"You  poor  dear!  I'm  going  to  love  petting  and 
spoiling  you!" 

Instantly  it  occurred  to  her  that  the  other  woman, 
the  unknown  wife  of  her  frequent  conjecture,  had 
neither  petted  nor  spoiled  him  and  that  this  accounted 
for  his  eagerness  for  a  new  experience.  A  cloud 
crossed  the  bright  heaven  of  her  happiness.  His  wife 
was  not  to  be  relegated  to  oblivion  merely  because  he 
had  found  another  object  for  his  affections.  The  wife 
had  a  very  real  existence  in  Grace's  imagination;  to 
Trenton's  lightly  limned  sketch  the  girl  had  added  a 
line  here  and  there  until  she  fancied  she  possessed 
a  very  true  portrait  of  Mrs.  Trenton.  Somewhere 
there  existed  a  Mrs.  Ward  Trenton,  who  wrote  books 
and  lectured  and  otherwise  advertised  herself  as  a 
vital  being. 

"Dear  little  girl!"  said  Trenton  tenderly.  "You 
are  all  the  world  to  me.  Do  you  understand?" 

"I  must  believe  that,"  she  said. 

"There's  nothing  I  can  offer  you  now — neither  a 


168  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

home  nor  the  protection  of  my  name.  It's  got  to 
be  just  love  that's  our  tie.  I'm  not  going  to  deceive 
you  about  that." 

"Yes,  I  understand  what  it  means,"  she  answered. 

"You  must  believe  that  I'll  do  the  best  I  can  to 
make  you  happy.  Love  that  doesn't  bring  happiness 
is  an  empty  and  worthless  thing.  You  don't  know 
how  much  I  count  on  you.  I'm  laying  a  burden  on 
you;  I'm  clutching  at  you  for  all  the  things  I've  missed 
out  of  my  life." 

"Yes;  I  know  dear." 

"There's  something  not  fair  about  it — about  cast- 
ing myself  upon  you  as  I'm  doing,"  he  said  doggedly. 

"I'm  proud  that  you  want  me!  I  want  to  fill  your 
heart  and  your  life." 

"You  can;  you  do  even  now!  But  first  of  all  I 
want  you  to  be  sure — sure  of  yourself,  dear.  There 
must  be  no  regrets  afterward.  I  can't  see  you  again 
before  I  go,  but  I'll  write." 

"I  shall  miss  you  so!  You  will  write  to  me!"  she 
cried,  feeling  already  the  loneliness  of  the  days  of  his 
impending  absence.  His  calmness  was  disconcerting 
but  she  readily  forgave  this  as  she  would  have  for- 
given him  anything.  He  was  thinking  of  the  long 
future  no  doubt,  planning  ways  of  seeing  her. 

"Promise  me  you'll  consider  everything." 

"It's  enough  that  we  love  each  other!"  she  replied 
softly. 

"You're  not  a  child  but  a  woman,  able  to  see  it  all 
in  every  light.  You  must  be  very  sure  that  you  care; 
that  you  do  love  me." 

"I'm  very  sure,  dear,"  she  said,  not  a  little  dis- 
turbed by  his  solicitude,  fearing  that  he  himself  might 
now  be  a  prey  to  misgivings. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  169 

"You  can  write  to  me  at  the  addresses  I'll  send. 
And  then  wire  me  when  you're  quite  sure — not  till 
then!" 

"Yes;  I'll  do  as  you  say.  But  tell  me  again  that 
you  love  me!  I  shall  be  so  lonely  without  you!" 

"With  all  my  heart  I  love  you.  I  wish  we  need 
never  part  again.  Some  day  that  will  be.  Some  day 
I  can  have  you  with  me  always!  But  now " 

The  sentence  died  on  his  lips.  What  could  be  now 
he  did  not  say,  shrank  from  saying  perhaps.  It  was 
not  for  her  to  express  in  words  what  could  be  now. 
She  felt  a  sudden  strong  impulse  to  speak  of  his  wife; 
to  ask  him  whether  he  did  not  still  care  for  her.  But 
it  was  in  her  heart,  the  battleground  of  many  and 
confused  emotions,  to  give  him  the  benefit  of  every 
doubt.  Her  forces  of  defense  had  mutinied  and  left 
her  powerless  even  to  question  him.  The  joy  of  the 
knowledge  that  he  loved  her  and  that  she  returned 
his  love  thrilled  her  like  the  song  of  triumphant 
bugles. 

Her  heart  was  throbbing  as  they  passed  through 
the  Durland  gate.  At  the  door  he  took  her  in  his 
arms. 

"My  dearest!  I  wouldn't  lie  to  you;  I  love  you 
with  all  my  heart.  You  will  write  me;  and  don't 
forget  the  telegram.  I  shall  come  flying  at  the  first 
possible  moment  after  I  get  that.  And  don't  trouble 
about  anything.  I  want  you  to  say  you  trust  me 
and  are  sure  of  me." 

His  kisses  smothered  her  replies. 

"Promise  to  be  careful  of  yourself,  dear.  I  should 
die  without  you ! " 

There  were  tears  in  her  eyes  as  she  fumbled  for 
her  latch  key.  She  watched  him  as  he  struck  out 
with  a  long  stride  toward  the  city.  She  thought 


170  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

that  he  looked  back  and  waved  his  hand  out  of  the 
shadows  just  as  she  opened  the  door. 

II 

It  was  long  before  she  slept  but  she  rose  obedient 
to  the  summons  of  the  alarm  clock  and  assisted  as 
usual  in  the  preparation  of  breakfast.  At  the  table 
her  silence  and  preoccupation  caused  her  mother  to 
scrutinize  her  closely. 

"You  don't  seem  quite  like  yourself,  Grace.  Don't 
you  feel  well?" 

"Oh,  there's  nothing  at  all  the  matter.  I  had  a 
hard  day  at  the  store  yesterday." 

"Maybe  you  ate  something  for  supper  that  didn't 
agree  with  you." 

Grace  read  into  this  suggestion  a  hint  that  her 
mother  and  sister  were  not  without  their  curiosity  as 
to  where  she  had  dined  and  the  manner  in  which  she 
had  spent  the  remainder  of  the  evening.  They  had 
been  accepting  so  meekly  her  silence  as  to  her  eve- 
nings away  from  home  that  it  occurred  to  Grace 
that  it  would  serve  to  allay  suspicion  if  she  told  occa- 
sionally just  what  she  had  been  doing. 

"I  had  dinner  at  the  Sycamore  with  an  acquaintance 
< — a  man  from  out  of  town — and  we  went  to  the  con- 
cert. The  music  was  perfectly  wonderful.  And  then 
we  walked  home.  Nothing  terribly  exciting  in  that!" 

"I  thought  I  heard  voices  at  the  door  just  before 
you  came  in,"  said  Mrs.  Durland  with  an  effort  at  in- 
difference that  was  only  partly  successful. 

"Very  likely  you  did,  mamma.  Mr.  Trenton  and  I 
walked  home;  it  seemed  a  pity  to  ride  when  the  night 
was  so  fine  and  there  was  all  that  music  still  ringing 
in  our  ears." 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  .      171 

She  was  pleased  with  her  own  audacity  and  smiled 
as  she  saw  Ethel  and  her  mother  exchange  glances. 
But  having  ventured  so  far  it  would  be  necessary 
now  to  explain  how  she  had  met  Trenton  and  she  was 
prepared  with  a  small  lie  with  which  to  fortify  the 
truth  when  she  saw  that  something  more  was  expected. 

"Mr.  Trenton,  did  you  say,  Grace?"  inquired  Mrs. 
Durland  as  though  not  sure  she  had  heard  aright. 

"Yes,  mother;  Mr.  Ward  Trenton,  of  Pittsburgh. 
I  knew  his  niece  very  well  at  the  University,  and  as 
he  comes  here  now  and  then  Mabel  wrote  and  asked 
him  to  look  me  up.  He's  ever  so  nice.  He's  been 
everywhere  and  talks  wonderfully.  He's  a  mechani- 
cal engineer  and  rated  very  high,  isn't  he,  daddy?" 

Trenton's  name  had  impinged  upon  Durland's  con- 
sciousness and  he  put  down  the  morning  newspaper 
to  which  he  had  been  referring  from  time  to  time  dur- 
ing the  consumption  of  his  breakfast. 

"Ward  Trenton?  Yes,  he's  one  of  the  ablest  engi- 
neers in  the  country.  Did  you  say  he'd  been  in  town, 
Grace?" 

"Yes,  he  comes  here  now  and  then.  I  had  dinner 
with  him  last  night  at  the  Sycamore  and  we  went  to 
the  concert.  I  meant  to  tell  you  about  him.  He 
knows  of  you;  he  says  he's  always  stumbling  into  you 
in  the  patent  office  records." 

"Did  Trenton  say  that?"  asked  Durland,  greatly 
pleased. 

"Yes;  he  spoke  of  you  in  the  kindest  way,  father." 

"You  don't  say!  I  wouldn't  have  thought  he'd  ever 
heard  of  me.  He's  in  touch  with  all  the  big  industrial 
concerns  of  the  country,"  said  Durland.  "I  guess 
there  is  hardly  a  man  whose  word  is  worth  more  than 
Trenton's.  I  read  just  the  other  day,  in  one  of  the 
trade  journals,  an  address  he  made  somewhere  on  shop 


172  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

efficiency.  His  opinions  are  quoted  a  good  deal;  he 
knows  what  he's  talking  about." 

Her  father's  manifestation  of  interest  in  a  man  so 
eminent  in  his  own  field  did  not  prevent  Ethel  from 
taking  advantage  of  Grace's  unexpected  frankness 
to  ask: 

"Was  it  Mr.  Trenton  you  were  with  at  the  theatre 
a  few  nights  ago?  One  of  the  girls  in  the  office  said 
she  saw  you  there  with  a  very  distinguished  looking 
man." 

"The  very  same!"  Grace  replied  promptly.  "You 
know  Mr.  Trenton  is  awful  keen  about  Mabel,  so 
when  she  wrote  him  that  I  was  at  Shipley's  he  came 
in  to  see  me." 

Having  gone  so  far  with  the  imaginary  niece  she 
thought  it  best  to  endow  her  with  a  full  name. 

"Mabel  Conwell  is  awfully  nice,  though  you 
wouldn't  exactly  call  her  pretty." 

"Does  she  live  here?"  asked  Mrs.  Durland. 

"Oh,  no!  Her  home's  in  Jeffersonville  or  New  Al- 
bany, I  forget  which.  It's  one  of  those  Ohio  river 
towns." 

"It  was  certainly  kind  of  her  to  have  Mr.  Trenton 
look  you  up,"  said  Mrs.  Durland.  "But  I  wish  you'd 
asked  him  to  the  house.  It  doesn't  seem  just  right 
for  you  to  be  going  out  with  a  man  your  family 
doesn't  know.  I'm  not  saying,  dear,  that  there's  any 
impropriety;  only  I  think  it  would  give  him  a  better 
impression  of  all  of  us  if  we  met  him." 

"Oh,  I  meant  to  bring  him  up  but  he's  so  terribly 
busy.  He  works  everywhere  he  goes  right  up  to  the 
last  minute.  And  it  was  much  simpler  to  meet  him  at 
the  Sycamore." 

"He's  married,  is  he  not?"  asked  Ethel. 

"Oh,  yes!"  said  Grace,  heartily  regretting  now  that 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  173 

she  had  opened  the  way  for  this  question.    "His  wife 
is  Mary  Graham  Trenton  who  write  and  lectures." 

"That  woman,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Durland,  plainly 
horrified.  "She  is  one  of  the  most  dangerous  of  all 
the  foes  of  decency  in  this  country  1  Last  spring  we 
had  a  discussion  of  her  ideas  in  the  West  End  Club. 
I  hadn't  known  how  utterly  without  shame  a  woman 
could  be  till  one  of  our  members  wrote  a  paper  about 
her." 

"I've  heard  that  she's  very  wealthy,"  interposed 
Ethel  hi  a  tone  which  suggested  that,  no  matter  how 
utterly  destructive  of  public  morals  Mrs.  Trenton's 
ideas  might  be,  as  a  rich  woman  she  was  not  wholly 
beyond  the  pale.  "It's  all  the  more  remarkable  that 
she's  opposed  to  marriage  and  nearly  everything  else, 
or  pretends  to  be,  when  she  belongs  to  one  of  the 
oldest  American  families  and  inherited  her  wealth." 

"I  don't  know  that  Mr.  Trenton  accepts  her  ideas," 
said  Grace.  "He  hasn't  discussed  them  with  me.  He 
seemed  rather  amused  when  I  told  him  I'd  read  her 
'Clues  to  a  New  Social  Order'." 

"You  haven't  read  that  awful  thing?"  cried  Mrs. 
Durland. 

"Why,  certainly,  mother;  I  read  it  last  winter.  It's 
not  so  awfully  shocking;  I  suppose  there  are  a  good 
many  people  who  believe  as  Mrs.  Trenton  does." 

"How  can  you  speak  so,  Grace!  What  would  be- 
come of  the  home  and  the  family  if  such  ideas  pre- 
vailed? That  woman's  positively  opposed  to  mar- 
riage." 

"Oh,  I  don't  believe  it's  as  bad  as  that!  I  think 
it's  more  her  idea  that  where  marriages  are  unhappy 
it's  cruel  to  make  people  live  together.  But,  you 
needn't  be  afraid  that  Mr.  Trenton's  trying  to  con- 
vert me  to  his  wife's  notions.  I  don't  believe  he  is 


174  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

terribly  tickled  to  have  her  gallivanting  over  the  coun- 
try lecturing." 

"You  can't  be  too  careful,  you  know,  Grace,  about 
letting  a  married  man  pay  you  attentions.  People 
are  bound  to  talk.  And  Mrs.  Trenton,  being  known 
for  her  loose  ideas  on  marriage,  naturally  causes 
people  to  look  twice  at  her  husband." 

"And  at  any  woman  her  husband  pays  attention 
to,"  Ethel  added. 

"Of  course  I'm  careful  what  I  do,"  replied  Grace. 
"Mr.  Trenton  is  a  perfect  gentleman  in  every  way 
and  just  as  kind  and  considerate  as  can  be.  He  gave 
me  two  of  the  pleasantest  evenings  I  ever  spent.  You 
certainly  can't  object  to  my  knowing  a  man  like  that." 

"No,  dear,"  replied  Mrs.  Durland,  "except  that  it 
seems  strange  for  a  daughter  of  mine  to  be  meeting 
a  married  man  and  having  dinner  with  him  and  going 
to  the  theatre  when  I  don't  know  him  at  all." 

Durland  had  lingered,  pretending  to  be  looking  for 
something  in  the  paper  but  really  prepared  to  sup- 
port Grace  in  the  event  that  his  wife  and  Ethel  showed 
a  disposition  to  carry  their  criticisms  further. 

"I  suppose  we  have  to  put  up  with  such  things," 
said  Ethel,  "but  that  doesn't  make  them  right.  I 
hope,  Grace,  you  won't  let  your  independence  carry 
you  too  far." 

"Well,  Mr.  Trenton  has  passed  on  and  I  don't  know 
when  he'll  turn  up  here  again,  so  you  needn't  worry." 

"It's  fine  you  can  know  a  man  like  Trenton,"  Dur- 
land ventured  from  the  hall  door. 

"Here's  an  idea!"  cried  Grace,  springing  after  him 
to  hold  his  overcoat,  "the  next  time  Mr.  Trenton 
comes  to  town  I'll  try  to  have  you  meet  him." 

"I  think  some  of  us  ought  to  meet  him,"  said  Mrs. 
Durland,  who  had  begun  to  clear  the  table. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  175 

"By  all  means,"  Ethel  affirmed.  "I  think  the  fam- 
ily dignity  calls  for  at  least  that!" 

"Yes,  we  must  preserve  the  family  dignity  at  any 
hazard,"  Grace  retorted. 

Having  buttoned  her  father  into  his  coat  she 
snatched  his  hat  and  planted  it  at  a  rakish  angle  on 
his  head.  He  submitted  good  naturedly,  pleased  as 
he  always  was  by  her  attentions. 

"You  bring  Trenton  down  sometime,  Grace.  I've 
some  old  junk  I'd  be  glad  to  show  him,"  he  said, 
glancing  furtively  at  his  wife. 

"Grand!  Between  us  we  ought  to  be  able  to  put 
something  over  on  him." 

She  flung  her  arm  across  his  shoulder  and  walked 
with  him  to  the  front  door. 

No  highly  developed  talent  for  mind  reading  was 
necessary  to  an  understanding  of  the  mental  opera- 
tions of  Mrs.  Durland  and  Ethel  in  matters  pertaining 
to  the  father  and  younger  daughter.  When  Grace 
entered  the  kitchen  she  knew  that  she  had  interrupted 
a  conference  bearing  upon  her  acquaintance  with 
Trenton.  Her  mother  and  Ethel  would  study  the  mat- 
ter in  all  its  aspects.  She  derived  a  cynical  satisfaction 
from  the  knowledge  that  her  apparent  frankness  was 
probably  causing  them  more  anxiety  than  an  evasion 
or  a  downright  lie. 


Ill 


Grace's  thoughts  raced  madly  in  the  days  that  fol- 
lowed. She  saw  herself  in  new  aspects,  dramatized 
herself  in  new  and  fascinating  situations.  She  was  like 
a  child  peering  into  a  succession  of  alluring  skop  win- 


176  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

dows,  the  nature  and  value  of  whose  strange  wares 
it  only  imperfectly  understands.  Life  was  disclos- 
ing itself,  opening  long  vistas  before  her.  As  to  men 
she  now  believed  that  she  knew  a  great  deal.  Con- 
fident that  she  loved  Trenton  and  without  regret  that 
she  had  confessed  her  love  she  did  not  question  her 
happiness.  She  lived  in  a  paradise  whose  walls  were 
fashioned  of  the  stuff  that  dreams  are  made  of.  It 
pleased  her  to  think  of  herself  as  a  figure  of  romance 
and  she  got  from  the  public  library  several  novels  in 
which  young  women,  imaginably  like  herself,  had  given 
their  all  for  love.  She  was  satisfied  that  her  own  case 
was  far  more  justifiable  than  those  of  these  heroines. 

Her  heart  was  filled  with  kindness  toward  all  the 
world.  On  the  day  that  brought  her  Trenton's  first 
letter  she  went  to  her  father's  new  shop  in  the  Power 
Building  carrying  lunch  for  two  from  a  cafeteria.  Her 
father's  silence  in  his  hours  at  home,  his  absorption 
in  his  scientific  books,  had  for  her  an  increasing 
pathos.  Mrs.  Durland  referred  not  infrequently  to 
the  fallen  estate  of  the  family  in  terms  well  calculated 
to  wound  him  from  the  very  tone  of  helpless  resigna- 
tion in  which  they  were  uttered. 

Durland  pushed  his  hat  back  on  his  head  and  stared 
as  Grace  appeared  in  the  door  of  his  little  shop. 

"What's  the  matter,  Grace?  Anything  happened?" 
he  asked  with  his  bewildered  air. 

"Not  a  thing,  daddy.  I  just  thought  I'd  come 
around  and  have  lunch;  so  here's  sandwiches  for  two." 

"I  never  eat  lunch,"  he  said,  turning  reluctantly 
from  the  bench  at  which  he  had  been  at  work. 

"Well,  you're  going  to  today!" 

Over  his  protests  she  cleared  a  space  on  the  bench 
and  laid  out  the  contents  of  her  package — sandwiches, 
cakes  and  apples.  She  dusted  off  a  chair  for  him 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  177 

and  then  swung  herself  on  to  the  bench  within  easy 
reach  of  the  food.  She  ignored  his  warning  that  there 
was  grease  on  the  bench  and  flung  him  a  paper  nap- 
kin. 

"The  banquet's  begun!  Now  proceed  and  tell  me 
how  every  little  thing's  a  going." 

"Just  about  the  same,  Grace.  I'm  working  on  an 
idea  or  two.  Not  sure  yet  just  what  I've  got,  but 
I  think  maybe  I'm  on  to  something  that'll  turn  out 
big." 

"You're  bound  to,  daddy!     You  work  so  hard!" 

"Cummings  may  have  scrapped  me  too  soon,"  he 
muttered  and  looked  at  her  with  an  ironic  grin  and 
a  fanatical  gleam  in  his  eyes  that  caused  her  to  wonder 
for  a  moment  whether  from  his  lonely  brooding  he 
might  not  be  going  mad. 

A  man  came  in  to  see  about  some  patterns  he  had 
ordered.  They  were  not  ready  and  even  while  Dur- 
land  expressed  his  regret  at  the  delay  Grace  saw  that 
his  thoughts  were  still  upon  his  inventions.  The  cus- 
tomer manifested  impatience,  remarking  angrily  as 
he  left  that  if  his  work  wasn't  ready  the  next  day 
he  would  take  it  elsewhere. 

"Really,  daddy,  you  oughtn't  to  keep  people  wait- 
ing when  you  take  their  jobs.  If  you'll  only  build 
up  this  pattern  and  model  business  you  can  make  a 
good  thing  of  it." 

"You're  right,  Grace.  But  I  can't  keep  my  mind 
off  my  own  work.  I  know  all  the  weaknesses  of  my 
old  things  that  Cummings  is  making.  I'm  going  to 
put  him  out  of  business!" 

"That's  all  right,  but  you  mustn't  take  jobs  for 
other  people  unless  you  mean  to  do  them  right  away. 
This  place  is  in  an  awful  mess!" 

As  she  began  straightening  up  a  litter  of  papers  on 


178  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

one  end  of  the  bench  a  bill  for  the  rent  of  the  room 
caught  her  eye. 

"Don't  look  at  these  things,  Grace!"  he  pleaded,  as 
he  tried  to  snatch  the  bill.  "I'll  be  able  to  pay  that  in 
a  day  or  two.  I  got  a  check  coming  for  a  model  and 
it'll  cover  the  rent." 

Her  questioning  elicited  the  information  that  the 
check  had  been  expected  for  several  weeks  and  that 
the  man  for  whom  the  model  had  been  made  left 
town  without  leaving  his  address. 

"It  seems  pretty  uncertain,  daddy,  and  this  rent's 
three  weeks  over  due.  I  have  a  little  money  in  the 
trust  company  and  I'll  send  my  check  for  it." 

"I  don't  like  taking  your  money,  Grace,"  he  said 
as  she  thrust  the  bill  into  her  purse. 

"Don't  you  worry  about  that.  I'd  be  ashamed  if  I 
didn't  help  you  when  you've  always  been  so  good  to 
me." 

"I  don't  see  where  I've  done  much  for  you.  I 
never  expected  you  girls  would  have  to  work.  You 
know  I'm  sorry,  Grace!" 

"Well,  I'm  perfectly  happy,  so  don't  you  worry." 

She  took  his  old-fashioned  watch  from  his  pocket 
and  noted  the  time. 

"I've  got  to  skip." 

"Nice  of  you  to  come  round,  Grace;  but  you're  al- 
ways good  to  me.  By  the  way,  I  guess  you'd  better 
not  tell  your  mother  about  the  rent.  She  wouldn't 
like  my  taking  your  money." 

"Then  we  won't  say  a  word!"  She  whispered, 
touched  by  his  fear  of  her  mother's  criticisms.  She 
flung  her  arms  about  him  and  hugged  him  till  he  cried 
for  mercy. 

Her  savings  account  was  further  depleted  the  next 
Saturday.  She  was  surprised  to  find  Roy  waiting  for 
her  when  she  left  the  department  at  her  lunch  hour. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  179 

"No,  sis;  I  didn't  write  I  was  coming.  I've  got  to 
go  back  on  the  first  train." 

"But  of  course  you'll  see  mother!" 

"Well,  I  thought  I  might  call  her  up,"  ke  said 
evasively. 

"Call  her  up!"  Grace  repeated  sharply.  "If  you're 
not  going  out  home  don't  call  her!  She'd  never  for- 
give you.  Come  and  have  lunch  with  me  so  we  can 
talk." 

Roy  Durland  was  tall  and  fair,  a  handsome  young 
fellow,  though  his  face  might  have  been  thought  too 
delicate,  a  trifle  too  feminine.  One  would  have  known 
that  as  a  child  he  had  been  pointed  out  as  a  very 
pretty  boy. 

"I  hate  like  thunder  bothering  you,  sis,"  he  began 
when  they  were  seated  in  the  lunch  room.  "But  I'm 
up  against  it  hard.  Harry  Sayles  and  I  got  a  car  from 
Thornton's  garage  the  other  night  and  took  a  couple 
of  girls  out  for  a  ride.  It  was  Harry's  party, — he  was 
going  to  pay  for  the  machine.  Well,  we  were  letting 
'er  go  a  pretty  good  clip,  I  guess,  when  something  went 
wrong  with  the  steering  gear  and  we  ran  smash  into 
a  barn  and  mussed  things  up  considerable.  Harry  and 
Freda  Barnes  were  on  the  front  seat  and  got  cut  up  a 
little.  We  had  to  wake  up  a  farmer  and  telephone  to 
Thornton  to  send  out  for  us.  Thornton  wants  fifty 
dollars  to  cover  his  damage  and  of  course  I've  got  to 
stand  half  of  it;  that's  only  square.  He's  pretty  ugly 
about  it  and  says  if  we  don't  come  through  with  the 
money  hell  take  it  up  with  the  college  people.  Now 
I  know,  Grace, — " 

"Yes,  you  know  you  have  no  business  going  on  joy 
rides,  particularly  with  a  boy  like  Harry  Sayles  who's 
always  in  nasty  scrapes  1  Who's  Freda  Barnes?  I 
don't  remember  a  student  of  that  name." 

"Well,  she  isn't  exactly  a  student,"  Roy  replied, 


180  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

nervously  buttering  a  piece  of  bread,  "but  she's  a 
perfectly  nice  girl.  She  works  in  Singleton's  store." 

"That's  one  girl;  who  was  the  other?" 

"Sadie  Den  ton;  you  must  remember  her;  she  was 
cashier  in  Fulton's  for  a  while." 

"No;  I  never  heard  of  her,"  said  Grace  eyeing  him 
coldly.  "You  know  plenty  of  nice  girls  on  the  campus 
and  plenty  of  decent,  self-respecting  boys.  There's 
not  the  slightest  excuse  for  you.  I  suppose  Harry  pro- 
vided the  whiskey.  There  was  whiskey  of  course. 
Come,  out  with  the  truth  about  it!" 

"Well,"  Roy  admitted  shamefacedly,  "we  did  have 
a  bottle  but  we  didn't  drink  enough  of  it  to  make  any 
difference.  Really,  Grace,  it  was  an  accident;  no  one 
could  have  helped  it." 

"I'm  not  so  sure  of  that.  I  understand  now  why 
you  didn't  want  to  show  yourself  at  home.  The  day 
I  left  college  you  promised  to  behave  yourself  and 
put  in  your  best  licks  on  your  work  and  already  you're 
mixed  up  in  a  nasty  scrape.  It  would  break  mother's 
heart  if  she  knew  it.  Mother's  crazy  about  you;  she'd 
sacrifice  all  the  rest  of  us  for  you,  and  you  evidently 
don't  appreciate  it  at  alll" 

"I  understand  all  that,  sis.  I  told  you  I'd  be  glad 
to  quit  and  let  you  stay  on  and  finish.  My  hanging 
on  in  the  law  school  is  all  a  mistake." 

"Well,  don't  whimper!  It's  too  late  to  weaken  now. 
You  were  old  enough  to  know  what  you  were  doing 
when  you  took  up  the  law.  It  begins  to  look  as  though 
you  simply  wanted  to  hang  on  at  the  university  to  loaf 
and  have  a  good  time.  You  don't  deserve  any  pity  for 
getting  into  a  mess  like  this.  I  suppose  the  story's  all 
over  the  campus." 

"I  don't  think  so,"  he  answered  quickly,  with  hope 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  181 

lighting  his  eyes.  "Thornton  promised  to  keep  his 
mouth  shut  if  we'd  pay  his  bill.  And  Harry  and  the 
girls  won't  talk." 

"I  imagine  not!  And  you're  letting  me  into  the 
secret  merely  in  the  hope  of  getting  twenty-five  dollars 
out  of  me." 

"Don't  be  so  hard  on  me,  Grace!  I  know  I'm  a 
fool  and  haven't  sense  enough  to  say  no  when  anybody 
asks  me  to  do  things  like  that.  But  if  you'll  help  me 
out  this  time  I  swear  never  to  bother  you  again." 

"All  right,  Roy.  I  haven't  the  money  here  but  I'll 
walk  over  to  the  trust  company  with  you  and  get  it. 
But  be  sure  this  doesn't  happen  again.  I  don't  want 
to  rub  it  in  but  it  may  help  you  to  keep  straight  if  I 
tell  you  that  it's  just  about  all  we  can  do  to  get  by  at 
home.  Father  is  earning  nothing;  the  family's  clean 
busted.  Mother's  pinching  and  denying  herself  to  be 
ready  to  give  you  a  start  when  you  leave  the  law 
school.  I'm  not  complaining;  I'm  only  telling  you  this 
because  I  don't  think  you  mean  to  make  it  any  harder 
for  the  rest  of  us  than  you  can." 

"It's  all  a  silly  mistake,"  he  said  dully,  "this  trying 
to  make  a  lawyer  of  me.  I've  a  good  notion  to  have  it 
out  with  mother  now  and  tell  her  I've  come  home  to 
stay." 

"If  you  do  you're  the  rankest  kind  of  quitter!  You 
could  have  refused  to  take  up  the  law  when  you 
graduated  from  college,  but  now  that  you  have  only 
a  few  more  months  you've  simply  got  to  make  good. 
Mother  would  die  of  humiliation  if  you  stopped. 
Come  along;  we've  got  to  step  lively." 

"Now,  Roy,"  she  said  as  she  gave  him  the  money  at 
the  teller's  window:  "Please  behave  yourself  I" 

He  left  her  at  the  store,  repeating  his  promises  that 


182  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

he  would  never  again  ask  her  for  money  and  assuring 
her  that  he  would  make  the  most  of  his  time  for  the 
remainder  of  the  year. 

She  had  dealt  with  him  more  severely  than  it  was 
in  her  heart  to  do  and  she  was  a  little  sorry  that  she 
hadn't  shown  more  tolerance  for  his  misadventure. 
Fairly  considered,  his  joy-riding  with  undesirable  com- 
panions was  hardly  more  censurable  than  her  partici- 
pation in  Kemp's  party  at  The  Shack,  a  matter  as  to 
which  her  conscience  was  still  at  times  a  little  tender. 


IV 


Trenton  wrote  every  day,  letters  in  which  there  was 
no  attempt  to  disguise  his  love  for  her.  He  hadn't 
warned  her  against  keeping  his  letters  but  she 
destroyed  each  one  after  writing  her  reply.  These 
answers  were  little  more  than  notes  which  she  wrote 
and  rewrote  in  trepidation  lest  she  say  too  much  or  too 
little.  Now  that  he  had  declared  himself  and  was 
reiterating  daily  his  complete  absorption  in  her  as  to 
everything  that  affected  his  future  she  could  afford  to 
risk  certain  reserves  and  coynesses.  But  she  did  love 
him;  she  had  positively  settled  this  question.  It  was 
a  tremendous  thing  that  had  happened  to  her,  the 
realization  of  a  great  love,  love  awakened  at  a  first 
meeting  and  endowed  with  all  the  charm  of  romance 
and  the  felicity  of  clandestine  adventure.  In  one  of 
her  notes,  written  with  her  door  locked — her  family 
imagined  her  to  be  zealously  devoting  herself  to  her 
French  studies — she  wrote: 

It  is  all  like  a  dream.  I  never  cease  to  marvel  that 
you  should  care  for  me.  .  .  .  Every  note  you 
send  me  is  a  happy  surprise.  If  one  failed  to  come  I 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  183 

think  I  should  die.  .  .  .  You  wanted  me  to  take 
time  to  think.  That  is  like  my  good  and  true  knight. 

But  I  want  you  to  consider  too, — everything 

Your  world  is  so  much  bigger  than  mine.  Any  day 
you  may  meet  some  one  so  much  finer  than  I  am,  so 
much  worthier  of  your  love.  ...  I  like  to  think 
that  it  all  had  to  be  just  as  it  has  been, — you  and  I 
wandering  toward  each  other,  guided  and  urged  on 
by  destiny. 

To  her  intimations  that  he  might  have  regrets  he  re- 
plied in  his  next  message  with  every  assurance  that  he, 
too,  shared  her  feeling  that  their  meeting  had  been 
predestined  of  all  time.  Now  and  then  in  his  life,  he 
wrote,  he  had  felt  the  hand  of  a  directing  and  benefi- 
cent fate.  She  wondered  how  he  would  have  re- 
plied to  a  direct  question  as  to  the  forces  that  had 
combined  to  bring  about  his  marriage  to  the  woman 
he  had  no  doubt  loved  at  some  time,  but  she  refrained. 
In  Grace's  thoughts,  Mrs.  Ward  Trenton,  the  Mary 
Graham  Trenton  who  sought  clues  to  social  problems 
and  moved  restlessly  about  the  country  proclaiming 
revolutionary  ideas,  was  receding  further  and  further 
toward  a  vanishing  point. 

At  the  end  of  a  week  she  became  restless,  eager  for 
Trenton's  return.  She  several  times  considered  tele- 
graphing him  to  make  haste,  but  after  going  once  to 
the  telegraph  office  at  her  lunch  hour  and  writing  the 
message  she  tore  it  up.  He  had  asked  her  to  wire 
whenever  she  was  sure;  the  mere  sending  of  a  telegram 
would  commit  her  irrevocably.  It  was  not  so  easy  as 
she  had  imagined  to  write  the  words  which  meant  that 
after  pondering  the  matter  with  the  gravity  it  de- 
manded she  was  ready  to  enter  into  a  relationship  with 
him  which  would  have  no  honest  status,  no  protec- 


184  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

tion,  but  would  be  just  such  an  arrangement  as  Irene 
maintained  with  Kemp. 

Irene,  aware  of  Trenton's  daily  letters,  now  re- 
frained from  giving  her  further  encouragement  to  the 
affair.  On  the  other  hand  she  seemed  disposed  to 
counsel  caution. 

"Some  days  you  seem  as  cheerful  as  a  spring  robin 
and  then  again  you  don't  seem  so  chipper.  You  don't 
want  to  take  your  love  affairs  so  hard!" 

"Oh,  we're  just  having  a  little  flirtation,  that's  all," 
said  Grace  carelessly. 

"That's  not  the  way  you're  acting!  You're  terribly 
intense,  Grace.  I  knew  you  had  temperament,  but  I 
didn't  know  you  had  so  much.  But  I'll  say  this  for 
Ward,  that  he's  a  fine,  manly  fellow, — frankly  a  much 
finer  type  than  Tommy  Kemp.  Tommy's  a  sport  and 
Ward  isn't.  Ward  really  has  ideals,  but  such  as 
Tommy  has  don't  worry  him  much." 

This  left  Grace,  again  a  prey  to  doubts,  wondering 
whether  after  all  Trenton  was  so  utterly  different  from 
Kemp.  Intellectually  he  was  a  higher  type  than 
Tommy  Kemp,  but  when  it  came  to  morals  he  was 
not  a  bit  better. 


Grace  had  not  yet  wholly  escaped  from  the  effect  of 
Dr.  Ridgely's  sermon,  with  its  warning  against  the 
too-readily-found  excuse  for  wrong-doing.  She  con- 
tinued to  observe  carefully  her  associates  in  Shipley's 
and  other  business  girls  she  became  acquainted  with, 
and  she  had  no  reason  for  suspecting  that  by  far  the 
greater  number  were  not  high-minded  young  women 
who  met  cheerily  all  the  circumstances  of  their  lives. 
She  found  herself  stumbling  uncomfortably  over  the 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  185 

excuses  she  made  for  herself.  Other  girls  forced  to 
labor  and  blessed  with  equal  charm  and  wit  did  not 
find  it  necessary  "to  play  around  with  married  men" 
as  the  phrase  went,  or  encourage  the  attentions  of 
young  unmarried  men  who  were  not  likely  to  show 
them  every  respect.  There  were  societies  and  asso- 
ciations whose  purpose  was  to  safeguard  young 
womanhood;  some  of  her  new  acquaintances  were 
members  of  such  organizations.  She  accepted  invita- 
tions to  go  for  lunch  or  supper  to  several  of  these, 
but  thought  them  dull. 

Finding  that  Grace  hadn't  attempted  to  enlist  Miss 
Reynolds  in  the  girl's  club  of  Dr.  Ridgley's  church, 
Ethel  Durland  had  sent  the  pastor  himself  to  invite 
that  lady  to  one  of  the  meetings. 

"I  hope  you  will  come  Tuesday  night,"  said  Ethel, 
when  she  reported  this  to  Grace.  "We  want  Miss 
Reynolds  to  see  the  scope  of  our  work  and  your  being 
there  will  be  a  help.  Maybe  you'd  ask  some  of  the 
girls  in  Shipley's?  We  want  to  have  a  record  at- 
tendance. And  we  want  the  girls  to  bring  their  young 
men  friends  with  them.  It's  our  idea  that  the  girls 
should  feel  that  the  church  is  like  another  home." 

The  attempt  to  establish  a  new  high  record  of  at- 
tendance brought  twenty-five  girls  and  four  young 
men  to  the  church  parlors.  Three  of  the  young  women 
were  from  Shipley's  and  they  had  gone  at  Grace's  earn- 
est solicitation;  four  were  Servians,  employed  in  a 
garment  factory,  and  they  were  convoyed  by  young 
men  of  their  own  race. 

"I  wish  you'd  be  specially  nice  to  those  Servian 
girls,"  Ethel  remarked  to  Grace.  "It  wasn't  easy  to 
get  them  to  come,  but  they  brought  their  beaux  with 
them.  We  must  be  sure  they  have  a  good  time." 

The  beaux  did  not  seem  to  relish  the  hopeless  min- 


186  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

ority  of  their  sex.  The  meeting  was  opened  formally 
by  Ethel  as  chairman  of  the  entertainment  com- 
mittee. She  introduced  Dr.  Ridgely,  who  expressed 
the  hope  that  the  club  would  develop  into  one  of  the 
strongest  agencies  of  the  church.  He  referred  to  re- 
ligion only  indirectly.  Grace  was  again  impressed  by 
his  sincerity;  and  he  was  tactful  and  gracious  in  his 
effort  to  put  the  visitors  at  ease.  He  would  not 
linger,  he  said,  as  a  reminder  that  they  were  in  a 
church;  the  evening  was  theirs  and  he  wanted  the 
club  to  manage  its  own  affairs  and  define  its  own 
policy  to  meet  the  tastes  and  needs  of  the  members. 
No  one  of  any  shade  of  religious  faith  could-  have 
taken  offense  from  anything  he  said  or  feared  that 
the  pastor  wished  to  use  the  club  for  proselyting  pur- 
poses. However,  when  he  had  left,  Ethel  Durland  ex- 
tended an  invitation  to  those  present  who  were  not 
already  enrolled  in  the  Sunday  school  to  become 
affiliated,  and  urged  attendance  upon  the  regular 
church  services. 

"How  tactless!  Why  couldn't  she  let  well  enough 
alone!"  whispered  Miss  Reynolds  to  Grace.  "Dr. 
Ridgely  knows  better  than  that." 

"My  sister  has  a  strong  sense  of  duty,"  Grace  an- 
swered. "She  couldn't  bear  to  let  the  opportunity 
go  by." 

"She  might  have  waited  at  least  till  they'd  got 
their  refreshments,"  Miss  Reynolds  retorted. 

A  young  lady  elocutionist  who  had  volunteered  her 
services  recited  a  number  of  poems  after  Ethel  had 
prepared  the  way  with  a  few  words  on  the  new  move- 
ment in  poetry.  The  audience  manifested  no  great  in- 
terest in  the  movement  and  seemed  utterly  mystified 
by  the  poems  offered.  However,  Ethel  now  announced 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  187, 

that  the  formal  exercises  were  concluded  and  that  they 
would  repair  to  the  basement  where  there  would 
be  dancing.  Ethel,  who  did  not  dance  herself  and 
thought  it  a  wicked  form  of  amusement,  had  yielded 
reluctantly  to  the  suggestion  of  the  other  members  of 
the  committee  that  dancing  be  included  in  the  pro- 
gramme. Dr.  Ridgely  had  given  his  approval  on  the 
ground  that  young  people  were  bound  to  dance  some- 
where and  as  there  was  so  much  criticism  of  the  pre- 
vailing fashion  in  dancing  he  thought  it  highly  desir- 
able to  provide  the  amusement  under  auspices  cal- 
culated to  discourage  the  objectionable  features  com- 
plained of  in  the  public  dance  halls. 

"Well,  where  are  all  the  young  men?"  inquired  Miss 
Reynolds  as  she  stood  beside  Grace  in  the  basement. 
"Those  four  Servians  look  frightened  to  death  and 
girls  don't  enjoy  dancing  with  each  other.  If  the 
church  is  going  to  do  this  thing,  why  don't  they  do  it 
right?  You'd  think  the  committee  would  have  got 
some  young  men  here  if  they'd  had  to  ask  the  police  to 
drag  them  in." 

The  music  was  provided  by  two  negroes,  one  of 
whom  played  the  piano  and  the  other  the  drum.  As 
Twentieth  Century  dance  music  it  was  not  of  a  high 
order.  The  musicians,  duly  admonished  by  the  Chair- 
man of  the  entertainment  committee,  were  subduing 
their  performance  in  the  attempt  to  adjust  it  to  the 
unfamiliar  and  sobering  environment.  And  the  room 
itself  was  not  a  particularly  inspiring  place  for  social 
entertaining.  A  map  of  the  Holy  Land  and  several 
enlarged  photographs  of  early  members  of  the  church 
were  the  only  adornments  of  the  plaster  wall,  and 
the  chairs  were  of  that  unsteady,  collapsible  type  that 
suggest  funerals  and  give  the  sitter  a  feeling  of  un- 


188  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

dergoing  penance  for  grievous  sins.  The  low  ceiling 
was  supported  by  iron  pillars  that  added  nothing  to 
the  pleasure  of  dancing. 

A  number  of  girls  began  dancing  together  and  after 
some  persuasion  Grace  succeeded  in  getting  the  four 
couples  of  Servians  on  the  floor.  The  young  men 
danced  with  something  of  a  ceremonial  air  as  though, 
finding  themselves  in  an  alien  atmosphere,  they  wished 
fitly  to  represent  the  dignity  and  pride  of  their  race. 
Grace  picked  out  several  young  girls  who  were  hud- 
dled helplessly  in  a  corner  and  danced  with  them  and 
then  seized  upon  the  young  men  and  introduced  them 
in  the  hope  of  breaking  the  racial  deadlock.  The 
young  fellows  proved  to  be  painfully  shy  when 
confronted  by  the  necessity  of  dancing  with  girls  they 
had  never  seen  before.  Nevertheless  Grace's  efforts 
resulted  in  putting  some  life  and  animation  into  the 
party.  It  had  been  said  of  her  in  college  that  she  had 
the  knack  of  making  things  go  and  it  struck  her  sud- 
denly that  something  might  be  done  to  inject  some 
spirit  and  novelty  into  the  occasion  by  asking  the 
Servians  to  give  their  folk  dances.  One  of  the  Servian 
girls  undertook  to  instruct  the  negroes  in  the  rhythms 
required  for  the  folk  dances  and  the  young  woman's 
vivacity  and  the  negroes'  good  natured  eagerness  to 
meet  her  wishes  evoked  much  merriment.  The  dances 
were  given  with  spirit  in  a  circle  formed  by  the  rest 
of  the  company,  who  warmly  applauded  the  quaint 
performance. 

"I  always  wanted  to  try  these  folk  dances  myself!" 
cried  Grace  appealing  to  the  tallest  of  the  young  men. 
"Won't  you  teach  me?" 

He  would  be  honored,  he  said,  and  the  girl  with  whom 
he  had  been  dancing  went  to  the  piano.  Grace  quickly 
proved  herself  an  apt  and  enthusiastic  pupil.  When 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  189 

she  had  learned  the  postures  and  steps  of  one  of  the 
group  dances  her  instructor  took  her  as  his  partner  and 
she  went  through  with  it  without  an  error.  Others  of 
the  American  girls  now  began  trying  the  steps  with 
the  Servian  young  men  and  women,  who  entered  zest- 
fully into  the  work  of  teaching  them.  The  result  was 
the  breaking  down  of  restraint  and  by  the  time  the  re- 
freshments were  served  the  room  presented  a  scene 
of  gaiety  and  good  fellowship. 

"You  have  a  genius  for  that  kind  of  thing,  my  dear; 
you  managed  that  beautifully,"  said  Miss  Reynolds  to 
Grace  as  they  assisted  in  pouring  chocolate  and  pass- 
ing sandwiches.  "You  saved  the  evening!  Dear  me! 
There's  something  wrong  with  this.  As  an  effort  to 
interest  young  people  in  the  church  this  club  can't 
say  much  for  itself.  Girls  won't  go  where  there  are 
no  young  men;  I  imagine  young  men  are  not  easy  to 
lure  into  church  parlors  to  hear  poetry  read  to  them, 
particularly  poetry  that  doesn't  mean  anything.  And 
this  cellar  and  the  piano  and  drum  can't  compete  with 
a  big  dance  hall  and  a  real  jazz  band.  This  has  been 
going  on  about  like  this  for  several  years,  but  without 
as  many  girls  as  came  tonight.  I  don't  know  what 
could  be  done,  but  this  doesn't  seem  worth  while." 

"I  don't  know  the  answer  either,"  said  Grace,  who, 
more  or  less  consciously,  was  observing  this  attempt 
to  do  something  for  working  girls  with  reference  to 
her  own  problems.  Her  reading  had  made  her  familiar 
with  the  efforts  of  church  organizations  to  meet  the 
social  needs  of  the  changing  times.  It  seemed  to  her 
that  these  all  presupposed  a  degree  of  aspiration  in 
the  class  sought  to  be  helped.  And  knowing  herself 
to  have  enjoyed  probably  the  best  opportunities  as  to 
education  of  any  girl  in  the  room  she  was  troubled, 
knowing  how  feeble  was  her  hold  on  such  ideals  of 


190  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

conduct  as  only  a  little  while  ago  she  had  believed 
herself  to  possess. 

"Maybe,"  said  Miss  Reynolds,  those  people  are 
right  who  say  we're  running  too  much  to  organiza- 
tions. We  start  a  club  like  this  and  stick  it  in  a 
church  basement  and  are  terribly  pleased  with  our- 
selves. These  girls  are  all  good  girls;  naughty  girls 
wouldn't  come;  they  can  have  a  better  time  some- 
where else.  And  they're  just  the  ones  we've  got  to 
reach.  Am  I  right  about  that?" 

"I  think  you  are,"  replied  Grace,  wondering  what 
Miss  Reynolds  would  say  if  she  could  read  her 
thoughts.  To  drop  Trenton  while  it  was  still  possible 
would  make  it  necessary  to  reconcile  herself  to  the 
acceptance  of  just  such  pleasures  as  Ethel  thought 
sufficient  social  stimulus  for  girls  who  worked  for  a 
living. 

"Why  don't  the  church  members  come  to  these 
meetings?"  Miss  Reynolds  demanded,  "or  send  their 
sons  and  daughters?  The  minister  of  this  church  has 
sense  and  I'll  wager  he  sees  that  side  of  it.  A  miser- 
able thing  like  this  only  strengthens  class  feeling.  I 
don't  believe  there's  any  way  of  making  such  a  club 
go.  The  church  is  put  in  the  position  of  tagging  the 
rich  and  the  poor  so  nobody  can  mistake  one  for  the 
other.  I  think  I'll  spend  my  time  and  money  on  in- 
dividual cases — find  a  few  young  people  who  really 
need  help  and  concentrate  on  them!" 

At  eleven  o'clock  the  musicians  left  and  the  en- 
tertainment came  to  an  end. 

"I'm  so  grateful  to  you,  Grace,  for  helping;  this  is 
the  best  meeting  we've  ever  had,"  said  Ethel  after 
she  had  pressed  a  folder  describing  the  church's  activ- 
ities upon  the  last  of  the  company.  "Don't  you  think 
our  work  well  worth  while,  Miss  Reynolds?" 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  191 

"I  was  greatly  interested,"  Miss  Reynolds  replied 
evasively. 

She  took  Grace  and  Ethel  home  in  her  car  but  did 
not  encourage  Ethel's  attempt  to  discuss  the  evening. 
However,  in  bidding  Ethel  good-night  she  said  she 
would  send  her  a  check  for  one  hundred  dollars  for 
the  girls'  club. 

"Your  work  is  important,  Miss  Durland;  I  sym- 
pathize with  the  purpose;  but  I  don't  think  you've  got 
quite  the  right  plan.  But  I  confess  that  I  have  no 
suggestion  worth  offering.  I  realize  that  it's  not  easy 
to  solve  these  problems." 


VI 


Grace  was  not  happy!  Much  as  she  tried  to  avoid 
the  flat  conclusion,  die  best  she  could  do  was  to  twist 
it  into  a  question.  Love  was  a  worthless  thing  if  its 
effect  was  merely  to  torture,  to  inflict  pain.  She  had 
told  Trenton  that  she  loved  him  and  had  virtually 
agreed  to  accept  him  on  his  own  terms.  Why,  as  the 
days  passed,  was  she  still  doubting,  questioning,  chal- 
lenging her  love  for  him? 

At  the  end  of  a  rainy  day  that  had  been  full  of) 
exasperations  Grace  left  the  store  to  take  the  trolley 
home.  The  rain  had  turned  to  sleet  that  beat  spite- 
fully upon  her  umbrella  and  the  sidewalks  were  a 
mass  of  slush.  She  was  dreading  the  passage  home 
in  the  crowded  car  and  the  evening  spent  in  her  room, 
thinking  of  Trenton,  fashioning  her  daily  letter.  She 
had  begun  to  hate  her  room  where  every  object  seemed 
to  be  an  animate,  malevolent  embodiment  of  some 
evil  thought.  She  had  half  decided  to  persuade  her 
father  to  brave  the  weather  and  return  down  town 


192  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

after  supper  to  go  to  a  picture  show  when,  turning  the 
corner,  she  heard  her  name  called. 

"Hello,  there,  Grace!" 

"Why,  Bob,  is  it  you?"  she  cried  peering  out  at 
Cummings  from  under  her  umbrella. 

He  took  her  umbrella  and  fell  into  step  with  her. 

"Don't  look  so  scared;  of  course  it's  I.  Frankly 
this  isn't  just  chance  alone;  I've  been  lying  in  am- 
bush 1" 

"This  will  never  dol"  she  cried,  but  in  spite  of 
herself  she  was  unable  to  throw  any  resentment  into 
her  tone. 

"I've  got  a  grand  idea!"  he  said.  "I'm  playing 
hooky  tonight.  Evelyn  called  me  up  this  afternoon 
to  ask  if  I'd  go  to  dine  with  an  uncle  of  hers  who's 
having  a  birthday.  These  family  parties  are  bad 
enough  at  Christmas  and  Thanksgiving  but  when  they 
begin  ringing  in  birthdays  I  buck.  So  I  told  Evelyn 
I  was  too  tired  to  go  and  that  I  had  a  business  en- 
gagement anyhow,  and  would  get  my  dinner  down 
town." 

"Do  you  realize  that  I'm  getting  wet?  You  beat  it 
for  your  family  party;  I'm  going  home." 

"Please,  Grace,  don't  desert  me!"  he  replied  coax- 
ingly.  "Let's  have  a  cozy  supper  together  and  I'll 
get  you  home  early." 

"I  told  you  I'd  never  see  you  again!"  she  said  in- 
dignantly. "You  have  no  excuse  for  waylaying  me 
like  this.  It's  unpardonable!" 

"Don't  be  so  cruel!"  he  pleaded.  "I'll  be  awfully 
nice — honestly  I  will!  You  won't  have  a  thing  to  be 
sorry  for." 

Firm  as  her  resolution  had  been  not  to  see  him 
again  she  was  weighing  the  relief  it  would  be  to  avoid 
going  home  against  the  danger  of  encouraging  him. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  193 

"Where  are  your  manners,  sir?  You  haven't  even 
offered  to  drive  me  home." 

"God  pity  us  homeless  children  in  the  great  city  to- 
night!" he  cried,  aware  that  she  was  relenting.  "My 
car's  parked  yonder  by  the  Sycamore  Tavern.  The 
night  invites  the  adventurous  spirit.  We'll  dare  the 
elements  and  ride  hard  and  fast  like  king's  mes- 
sengers." 

"Will  you  keep  that  up — just  that  way — pretending 
we're  two  kids  cutting  up,  as  we  used  to  do?" 

"Of  course,  Grace;  you  may  count  on  it." 

"Well,  I'm  tired  and  bored  with  myself,  and  was 
dreading  the  ride  home — I'll  go!  But  whither?" 

"To  McGovern's  house  of  refreshment  at  the  border 
of  a  greenwood,  known  to  Robin  Hood  in  olden 
times!"  cried  Cummings,  elated  by  her  consent. 
"We'll  stop  at  the  Sycamore  and  I'll  telephone  the 
varlet  to  make  the  coffee  hot." 

"I  supped  there  once,  years  agone!  But  the  crowd 
was  large  and  boisterous,"  she  replied,  now  entering 
fully  into  the  spirit  of  the  proposed  adventure.  Their 
attempt  at  archaic  speech  recalled  their  youthful  de- 
light in  the  Arthurian  legends  in  days  when  their  world 
was  enfolded  in  a  golden  haze  of  romance. 

It  was  impossible  to  think  of  Cummings  otherwise 
than  as  a  boy,  and  a  foolish  boy,  but  amusing  when 
the  humor  was  on  him  as  now,  and  to  have  supper 
with  him  would  work  injury  to  no  one. 

While  he  talked  to  McGovern  she  went  into  a  booth 
and  explained  to  her  mother  that  she  wouldn't  be 
home  for  supper,  saying  that  she  was  going  to  a 
movie  with  a  girl  friend. 

"All  set?"  asked  Cummings.  "That's  fine.  We'll 
move  right  along.  You'll  be  in  early;  that's  a  cinch. 
Evelyn's  sure  to  be  home  by  ten  and  I'll  be  practising 


194  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

Chopin  furiously  when  she  gets  back  from  her  uncle's. 
Mac  wasn't  keen  about  taking  us  in  as  he  shuts  down 
at  the  first  frost.  But  that's  all  the  better;  nobody 
else  would  think  of  going  there  on  such  a  night!" 

They  were  planning  with  much  absurd  detail  the 
strategy  of  their  approach  to  a  beleagured  capital  when 
they  reached  McGovern's  and  were  warmly  welcomed 
by  the  proprietor. 

"It  gets  mighty  lonesome  out  here  in  the  winter,"  he 
said.  "The  missus  thought  you'd  like  having  supper 
right  here  in  the  living  room  so  you  could  sort  o' 
chum  with  the  fire." 

"That's  a  heavenly  idea,"  said  Grace,  eyeing  th'i 
table  with  covers  laid  for  two.  Mrs.  McGovern,  a 
stout  woman  whose  face  shone  with  good  nature,  ap- 
peared and  bade  her  husband  help  bring  in  the  dishes. 
Whereupon  Cummings  and  Grace  rushed  to  the 
kitchen  to  assist  and  filed  in  behind  him,  bearing  serv- 
ing dishes  and  singing  a  song  they  had  learned  in  their 
childhood: 

It's  over  the  river  to  feed  the  sheep, 

It's  over  the  river  to  Charlie; 
It's  over  the  river  to  feed  the  sheep 

And  measure  out  the  barley!" 

VII 

The  wind  whined  in  the  chimney  and  somewhere  a 
shutter  banged  spitefully. 

"That's  the  only  touch  we  needed  to  make  a  perfect 
evening!"  said  Grace,  her  cheeks  glowing.  "I  expect 
to  hear  a  stage  coach  come  tearing  into  the  yard  any 
minute  pursued  by  highwaymen.  How  did  you  ever 
come  to  think  of  McGovern's?" 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  195 

"Just  one  of  my  little  happy  thoughts!  Now  that 
we've  found  the  way  there's  no  reason  why  we  can't 
repeat,"  said  Cummings. 

"There  you  go!  This  doesn't  establish  a  precedent; 
it  belongs  to  those  experiences  it's  better  never  to  try 
again.  But,  it's  certainly  jolly  so  far  as  we've  gone. 
What  if  somebody  should  come  prancing  in?" 

"It's  not  a  good  night  for  prancing.  McGovern 
said  there  hadn't  been  a  soul  here  for  a  week.  That's 
why  he  let  us  come,  I  suppose." 

"I  can  think  of  certain  persons  who  wouldn't  add 
much  to  the  joy  of  this  particular  party,"  said  Grace 
musingly. 

"A  little  danger  adds  to  the  fun!  You  seem  to  for- 
get that  I  thought  it  all  up;  I'm  ready  to  go  right  on 
round  the  world!" 

"Yes,  you  are!"  she  retorted  teasingly.  "It  sounds 
awful  but  sometimes  I  think  it's  cowardice  that  keeps 
most  of  us  good!  If  you  were  a  philosopher  I'd  ask 
your  opinion  on  that  subject  but  I  see  you  haven't  a 
ghost  of  an  idea!" 

He  frowned.  There  had  always  been  a  serious  side 
to  Grace.  In  her  high  school  days  she  was  constantly 
dipping  into  books  that  were  beyond  her,  treatises 
on  social  science  and  the  like  that  only  depressed  him. 
He  didn't  know,  of  course,  how  eagerly  she  had  caught 
at  the  opportunity  of  spending  the  evening  with  him 
merely  to  enjoy  a  few  hours  freedom  from  the  turmoil 
of  her  own  soul.  It  interested  her  for  a  moment  to 
sound  him  as  to  whether  by  any  chance  he  was  con- 
scious of  the  general  transformation  of  things  or  knew 
that  their  visit  to  McGovern's  in  itself  had  a  signifi- 
cance; but  he  was  a  dreamer  who  responded  only  to 
the  harmonies  of  life  and  avoided  all  its  discords.  He 
was  caught  up  in  the  whirligig  of  apparently  changing 


196  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

conditions  just  as  she  knew  herself  to  be.  Were  they 
really  breaking  down  the  old  barriers?  Or  was  the 
world,  aided  by  gasoline  and  jazz,  moving  so  rapidly 
that  in  the  mad  rush  it  required  a  more  alert  eye  to 
discern  the  danger  signs? 

The  fact  that  she  was  eating  supper  with  another 
woman's  husband  in  a  place  frankly  chosen  for  its 
isolation  interested  her,  as  so  many  social  phenomena 
had  interested  her  since  she  left  the  University. 

"Oh,  thunder!"  he  said  with  a  shrug.  "There's  no 
use  in  our  worrying.  Let  the  old  folks  do  that.  I 
guess  we've  all  got  a  right  to  be  happy  and  tastes  differ 
as  to  what  happiness  is.  That's  all." 

This,  of  course,  wasn't  all,  but  she  refrained  from 
saying  so.  A  look  came  into  his  eyes  that  warned  her 
to  have  a  care.  She  must  guard  herself  from  an  at- 
tempt on  his  part,  which  she  saw  was  impending,  to 
take  advantage  of  the  hour  to  make  love  to  her. 

"Grace,"  he  resumed,  "every  time  I  get  blue  it's 
you  I  want  to  see." 

"Tush,  tush!  I'd  never  have  come  if  I'd  thought 
you  were  going  to  be  foolish.  Don't  you  get  the 
notion  into  your  silly  head  that  you  can  run  to  me 
every  time  you  get  down  in  the  mouth.  There's  no 
reason  why  I  should  hold  your  hand  when  you're  sor- 
rowful; I  don't  want  the  job!" 

She  was  eating  with  an  honest  appetite  that  dis- 
couraged his  hope  of  interesting  her  in  sentiment. 

"Wow !    I  thought  you'd  jump  at  the  offer ! " 

"Have  another  biscuit!  I  want  to  laugh!  How 
silly  this  is,  Bob!  I  supposed  you  brought  me  out 
here  to  show  me  a  good  time  and  we're  almost  at  the 
point  of  quarreling." 

"Now,  Grace,  we'll  never  do  that!     I  didn't  think 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  197 

you'd  mind  the  compliment  1  But,"  dolefully,  "I  sup- 
pose you  get  so  many!" 

He  became  tractable,  obedient,  anxious  to  please 
her.  She  knew  that  she  could  do  with  him  very  much 
as  she  pleased;  but  there  was  no  satisfaction  in  the 
exercise  of  her  power  over  so  unstable  a  character. 
She  was  sorry  for  him,  much  as  she  would  have  been 
sorry  for  a  child  who  never  quite  learned  his  lessons; 
and  there  were  lessons  Bob  Cummings  would  never 
learn. 

After  they  had  eaten  their  dessert  they  started  the 
victrola  and  danced,  and  Bob  was  again  the  good  play- 
fellow. They  began  burlesquing  classic  dances,  and 
laughed  so  boisterously  at  their  success  in  making 
themselves  ridiculous  that  McGovern  and  his  wife 
came  in  to  watch  them.  They  had  brought  themselves 
to  a  high  pitch  of  merriment  when  McGovern,  who 
was  assisting  his  wife  in  clearing  the  table,  darted 
across  the  room  and  stopped  the  music. 

"Good  Lord;  it's  some  one  knocking!"  cried  Bob, 
as  the  outer  door  shook  under  a  heavy  thumping. 

"Just  keep  quiet,"  said  McGovern.  "I  guess  it's 
some  one  who's  got  into  trouble  on  the  road." 

"People  stop  for  a  little  gas  to  help  'em  out  some- 
times," said  Mrs.  McGovern.  "Mac'll  get  rid  of 
'em." 

McGovern,  with  his  shoulder  against  the  door 
threw  a  look  of  inquiry  at  Cummings  and  Grace. 
Cummings  lifted  his  head  as  the  voice  again  de- 
manded admittance. 

"Sounds  like  Atwood, — a  chap  I  know,"  he  said  to 
Grace.  "Who's  with  him,  Mac?" 

As  McGovern  opened  the  door  a  few  grudging 
inches  a  male  voice  called  him  by  name. 


198  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

"Let  us  in,  Mac:  we're  freezing  to  death!" 

"Sorry,  but  we're  closed  for  the  season,"  McGovern 
answered. 

"That  doesn't  go,  Mac!  You  can't  turn  me  down," 
replied  the  voice. 

Before  McGovern  could  answer  a  vigorous  pressure 
flung  the  door  open  and  a  young  man  stepped  in  fol- 
lowed by  a  young  woman  in  a  fur  coat  and  smart 
toque. 

"Never  thought  you'd  shut  the  door  in  my  face, 
Mac!"  said  the  young  man  reproachfully.  "We've  got 
to  have  some  coffee  and  sandwiches.  Hello,  Mrs. 
Mac:  how's  everything?" 

The  young  woman,  blinking  in  the  light,  was  walking 
toward  the  fireplace  when  she  became  aware  that  Mc- 
Govern and  his  wife  had  been  entertaining  other 
guests.  She  paused  and  stared,  her  gaze  passing 
slowly  from  Cummings  to  Grace.  Her  companion, 
finding  that  McGovern  and  his  wife  were  receiving 
coldly  his  voluble  expressions  of  regard,  now  first 
caught  sight  of  the  two  figures  across  the  room. 

"Hello-o-o!"  he  exclaimed.     "Look  who's  here!" 

"Why,  Jimmie,  is  that  you?"  said  Cummings  with 
a  gulp. 

"I  call  it  some  night!  And  Mac,  the  old  pirate, 
didn't  want  to  let  me  in!" 

The  McGoverns  were  hastily  retiring  toward  the 
kitchen,  Mac  tiptoeing  as  though  leaving  a  death 
chamber.  The  weight  of  his  grievous  error  was  upon 
him;  never  before  had  he  precipitated  a  wife  upon  a 
husband  in  so  disturbing  a  fashion. 

Grace  was  watching  the  young  woman,  who  pulled 
a  chair  away  from  the  table  that  still  bore  evidences 
of  the  recent  repast  and  sank  into  it.  She  was  tall  and 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  199 

slender  and  the  light  struck  gold  in  her  hair.  Feeling 
perhaps  that  Grace's  eyes  were  upon  her,  she  bent  and 
plucked  a  raveling,  real  or  imaginary,  from  the  skirt  of 
her  coat.  She  unbottoned  her  coat  and  drew  off  her 
gloves  with  elaborate  care. 

Her  companion  stood  with  his  hands  thrust  into  the 
pockets  of  his  overcoat,  grinning.  An  old-fashioned 
clock  on  the  mantel  began  to  strike  to  the  accompani- 
ment of  queer  raspings  of  its  mechanism.  The  hands 
indicated  the  hour  as  ten  but  in  the  manner  of  its 
kind  the  hammer  within  pounded  out  twelve.  There 
was  a  suggestion  of  insolence  in  the  protracted  thump- 
ing of  the  bell.  As  the  last  torturing  sound  was  dying 
Grace  turned  her  head  slightly  to  look  at  Cummings, 
who  was  staring  blankly  at  the  lady  in  the  fur  coat. 

"What  a  funny  clock!"  Atwood  remarked  with  the 
jubliant  tone  of  one  who  has  made  a  discovery  of 
great  value  to  mankind. 

"It's  a  dreadful  liar!"  said  Grace. 

"My  grandfather  used  to  have  one  just  like  it,  with 
a  basket  of  fruit  painted  on  the  door,"  said  Atwood, 
advancing  toward  Grace,  beaming  with  gratitude  for 
her  response  to  his  attempt  to  promote  conversation. 
He  was  short,  plump  and  blond,  with  thin  fair  hair  al- 
ready menaced  by  baldness.  He  was  not  far  advanced 
in  the  twenties  and  looked  very  much  like  an  over- 
grown school  boy.  Grace  appraised  him  as  a  person 
of  kindly  impulses  and  possibly  not  wholly  without 
common  sense. 

Having  planted  himself  beside  Grace  he  remarked 
further  upon  clocks  and  their  general  unreliability, 
while  he  rolled  his  eyes  first  toward  Cummings  and 
then  in  the  direction  of  the  lady  in  the  fur  coat.  Grace 
had  already  assumed  without  the  aid  of  this  telegraphy 
that  the  lady  was  Bob's  wife.  Atwood  seemed  to  be 


200  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

appealing  to  Grace  to  assist  him  in  terminating  a  situ- 
ation that  was  verging  upon  the  intolerable,  but  she 
was  unable  to  see  that  it  was  incumbent  upon  her  to 
take  the  initiative.  But  Mrs.  Cummings  might  sit  there 
forever  unless  something  happened.  Bob  continued  to 
wear  the  look  of  one  condemned  and  awaiting  the 
pleasure  of  the  executioner.  Grace  felt  strongly 
moved  to  walk  up  to  him  and  shake  him.  She  had 
read  of  such  unfortunate  meetings  between  husband 
and  wife  and  they  were  usually  attended  with  furious 
denunciations  and  sometimes  with  pistols.  Without 
the  sustaining  presence  of  Atwood  she  would  have  re- 
tired to  the  domestic  end  of  the  McGovern  establish- 
ment and  waited  for  the  storm  to  blow  over,  but  the 
storm,  if  such  impended,  was  slow  in  developing. 
"This  can't  last  forever,"  said  Grace  in  a  low  tone. 
"  If  something  doesn't  happen  in  a  minute  I'm  a 
dead  man,"  Atwood  whispered. 

"I  think  it  would  be  nice  if  we  all  got  acquainted. 
I'm  Miss  Durland,  Mr.  Atwood,"  said  Grace  in  a  tone 
audible  throughout  the  room. 

"Thank  you  so  much!     I  was  just  dying  to  know 

your  name!"  he  declared  fervidly.    "Oh,  Evelyn " 

Evelyn  lifted  her  head  and  looked  at  him  defiantly, 
but  he  squared  himself  and  said: 

"Mrs.  Cummings,  Miss  Durland.  I  really  supposed 
you  had  met  before." 

His  voice  rose  to  an  absurd  squeak  as  he  expressed 
this  last  hopeful  sentiment. 

Evelyn  bit  her  lip  and  nodded,  a  nod  that  might 
have  been  intended  for  Grace  or  quite  as  definitely 
for  an  enlarged  photograph  of  an  ancestral  whiskered 
McGovern  in  a  gilt  frame  that  adorned  the  wall  be- 
hind her. 

Grace  glanced  at  Bob,  still  rooted  to  the  floor,  and 
he  remarked  with  badly-feigned  cheerfulness. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  201 

"Well,  I  suppose  we  might  as  well  go  home — " 
a  suggestion  not  without  ambiguity,  as  there  were  four 
persons  in  the  room  and  two  at  least,  having  just  ar- 
rived and  awaiting  refreshments,  might  be  assumed 
to  prefer  to  linger. 

"Not  just  yet!"  said  Grace,  walking  slowly  toward 
Evelyn.  "There's  something  I'd  like  to  say  to  Mrs. 
Cummings." 

"Oh,  really " 

"We're  going  in  a  minute,"  interposed  Cummings, 
with  sudden  animation.  "I  think  maybe,  Grace " 

"Grace!"  Evelyn  repeated  scornfully.  "I'm  going 
home.  Jimmy,  I  want  you  to  take  me  home." 

"Yes,  Evelyn;  of  course  we'll  go  whenever  you 
like,"  said  Atwood.  "But,  we  ought  to  explain  things 
a  little.  I  mean  you  and  I  ought  to  explain  them,"  he 
elaborated  as  he  saw  her  lips  tighten.  "I  wouldn't 
want  Bob  to  think " 

"I  don't  care  what  Bob  thinks!"  she  flared.  "He 
lied  to  me;  he  told  me  he  had  a  business  engagement, 
to  get  out  of  taking  me  to  Uncle  Fred's!  And  this 
was  the  engagement!" 

"But  everything's  going  to  be  explained,"  Atwood 
persisted.  "You  know  there's  always  an  explanation 
for  everything,  and  Bob's  the  best  fellow  in  the  world 
— you  know  that  Evelyn." 

"I  know  nothing  of  the  kind!  I'll  let  him  know 
at  the  proper  time  and  place  what  I  think  of  him." 

"Well,  of  course,  Evelyn,"  said  Atwood  with  his  odd 
little  pipe  of  a  laugh.  But  he  was  very  earnest;  he 
brought  Cummings  to  his  side  by  an  imperious  ges- 
ture. As  the  man  for  the  hour  he  was  not  acquitting 
himself  so  badly;  he  looked  at  Grace  for  her  approval, 
wasn't  sure  that  she  gave  it,  but  with  his  hand  resting 
on  Cummings's  shoulder,  he  spoke  directly  to  the 
point. 


202  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

"I'm  awfully  sorry  about  this,  Bob.  You  know  I'm 
in  and  out  of  your  house  a  lot  and  you  never  seem  to 
mind.  And  tonight  I  tried  to  get  you  on  the  telephone 
to  see  if  we  could  do  something,  the  three  of  us  I  mean, 
— run  down  to  see  a  picture  or  any  old  thing — and  the 
maid  said  you  were  at  Colonel  Fel ton's;  both  of  you, 
I  thought  she  meant.  And  I  called  up  there  about  the 
time  I  thought  the  party  would  be  over  and  found  you 
weren't  there  and  asked  Evelyn  to  let  me  come  for  her. 
And  I  thought  it  would  be  good  fun  to  take  a  little  dash 
through  the  storm  and  I  knew  you  wouldn't  care. 
There  couldn't  be  any  harm  in  that;  we've  all  been 
out  here  together  lots  of  times." 

"Why,  that's  perfectly  all  right,  Jimmie!"  exclaimed 
Cummings  with  a  flourish  of  magnanimity  which  did 
not,  however,  awaken  the  grateful  response  he  may 
have  expected  from  Evelyn,  who  had  murmured  an 
indifferent,  "Thank  you,  Jimmie,"  when  Atwood  con- 
cluded. 

"There's  nothing  tragic  about  this,"  Cummings  be- 
gan a  little  defiantly.  "Miss  Durland  and  I  have 
known  each  other  all  our  lives.  She's  an  old  friend. 
"She  came  out  with  me  just  as  a  lark;  just  as  you  and 
Jimmie  came.  I  don't  want  you  to  think " 

"That  will  do!"  said  Evelyn  rising  so  suddenly  that 
Cummings  backed  away  from  her  in  alarm.  "Any- 
thing you  have  to  say  to  me  needn't  be  said  before 
this  old  friend  of  yours." 

"But,  Evelyn,  you're  not  fair!"  cried  Cummings 
hotly.  "It  isn't  fair  to  Miss  Durland.  The  whole 
fault  of  her  being  out  here  is  mine.  I'll  not  have 
you  think " 

"You're  terribly  anxious  about  what  I  think!" 
Evelyn  interrupted.  "I'll  think  what  I  please!" 

Grace,  on  her  way  to  the  sofa  on  which  she  had 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  203 

left  her  coat  and  hat,  swung  round,  her  face  aflame. 

"It  may  not  occur  to  you,  Mrs.  Cummings,  that 
what  ybu  think  isn't  of  the  slightest  importance." 

"You  act  as  though  you  thought  it  was!"  Evelyn 
flung  back. 

"I'm  not  acting;  you're  doing  enough  of  it!" 

"You've  probably  had  far  more  experience  in  such 
scenes!" 

"With  much  better  actors  than  your  husband,  I 
hope!" 

"Humph!  I  don't  believe  we're  going  to  like  each 
other." 

"The  regret  is  not  mine,  I  assure  you!" 

Grace  turned  to  a  mirror  to  straighten  her  hat.  Her 
preparations  for  departure  were  provocative  of 
thought  in  Atwood's  mind.  He  expressed  the  thought 
immediately,  evidently  with  the  laudable  hope  of 
lessening  the  tension. 

"Oh,  Miss  Durland,  won't  you  let  me  take  you 
home?  I  can  run  you  into  town  without  the  slight- 
est trouble." 

Evelyn's  surprise  at  this  suggestion  betrayed  itself 
in  a  spurt  of  coffee  that  missed  the  cup  she  was  filling 
and  spread  in  an  amber  stain  on  the  table  cloth. 

Grace  was  walking  toward  the  veranda  door  draw- 
ing on  her  gloves. 

"Thank  you  ever  so  much,  Mr.  Atwood,"  she  said 
evenly.  "But  Mr.  Cummings  is  going  to  take  me 
home!" 

Cummings  glanced  at  his  wife,  uncertainty  plainly 
written  on  his  face. 

"Why,  yes — yes — "  he  mumbled. 

"I'm  waiting,  Bob!"  said  Grace. 

He  gathered  up  his  raincoat  and  cap.  Grace  waited 
for  him  to  open  the  door  for  her. 


204  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

"Good  night,  Mr.  Atwood!"  she  flung  over  her 
shoulder,  and  the  door  closed. 

"Well,  there  was  that!"  Cummings  said  after  they 
were  in  the  highway. 

"I  hope  you're  satisfied  with  yourself,"  said  Grace 
angrily. 

"Good  Lord!  Didn't  I  do  the  best  I  could  about 
it?" 

"You  couldn't  have  done  worse  if  you'd  had  a 
week  to  plan  it!  Instead  of  standing  there  like  a 
fool  when  your  wife  came  in,  why  didn't  you  walk 
right  up  to  her  like  a  man  and  introduce  me?  You 
were  scared  to  death;  you  thought  of  nothing  but 
how  you  were  going  to  square  yourself  with  her.  You 
did  everything  you  could  to  give  her  the  idea  that 
you  were  ashamed  of  me." 

"Why,  Grace,  you  can't  mean  this!"  He  slowed 
down  the  car  the  better  to  talk.  "God  knows  I  did 
the  best  I  could.  I  couldn't  help  being  surprised  when 
they  came  in.  And  you  never  can  tell  how  Evelyn's 
going  to  take  anything." 

"Oh,  yes;  it  was  Evelyn  you  were  troubled  about; 
you  weren't  at  all  worried  about  me!  When  you 
came  out  of  your  trance  and  tried  to  explain  how  I 
came  to  be  there  the  mischief  was  already  done.  Of 
course  she  wouldn't  listen  to  you  then.  You  certainly 
made  a  mess  of  it." 

"I  don't  understand  you  at  all!  I  swear  I  did 
the  best  I  could." 

"Well,  it  was  a  pretty  poor  best!  Please  mind 
what  you're  doing;  you're  still  so  nervous  you'll  land 
in  the  ditch  in  a  minute." 

Thus  admonished  he  steadied  himself  at  the  wheel. 
Her  anger  had  expended  itself  and  she  was  now 
silently  staring  ahead  at  the  snow  covered  road. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  205 

No  word  had  passed  between  them  for  several 
minutes  and  Grace,  absorbed  in  her  own  thoughts,  was 
hoping  that  he  wouldn't  attempt  to  discuss  the  mat- 
ter further.  Her  respect  for  him  was  gone;  she 
disliked  him  cordially,  seeing  him  only  as  a  timid, 
evasive  person  whose  primary  impulse  was  self -pro- 
tection. He  might  play  on  the  wrong  side  of  a  for- 
bidden wall  but  the  moment  he  was  discovered  he 
would  scramble  for  safe  territory. 

He  touched  her  hand  so  suddenly  that  she  started 
and  snatched  it  away  with  a  feeling  of  aversion. 

"We've  both  been  thinking  about  what  happened 
back  there,"  he  began.  "I  don't  know  just  where  it 
leaves  me;  I  don't  know  how  Evelyn  is  going  to 
take  it." 

He  paused,  bending  forward  while  he  waited  for 
some  encouragement  to  go  on. 

"I  don't  care  how  Evelyn  is  going  to  take  it!  I 
thought  I'd  made  it  clear  that  I  didn't  want  to  talk  of 
your  private  affairs  any  more.  They  don't  interest 
me  in  the  least." 

"Of  course  if  Evelyn  wants  a  row " 

"Oh,  Bob  I  Please,  be  quiet!" 

"But  I  can't  leave  it  this  way!  You've  meant  too 
much  to  me  for  us  to  part  like  this.  What  I  was 
going  to  say  was — is " 

She  sighed  despairingly  and  resettled  herself  in  her 
place. 

"What  I  want  you  to  know  is  that  I  care  a  lot  for 
you,  Grace — and  if  there's  a  row — if  we  break  up, 
Evelyn  and  I,  I  mean " 

"I  think  you've  lost  your  mind!"  she  cried  furi- 
ously. 

"But,  you  don't  see — you  don't  understand " 

"Oh,  but  I  do!     If  Evelyn  turns  you  out  you  think 


206  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

maybe  you'd  like  to  give  me  a  trial!  That's  certainly 
an  idea!  I  suppose  you  have  visions  of  me  figuring 
in  your  divorce  suit— Cummings  against  Cumrnings! 
I  don't  believe  you  used  to  be  like  this.  It's  astonish- 
ing how  you've  deteriorated!" 

"I  didn't  expect  this  from  you,  Grace!"  he  replied 
bitterly.  "I've  felt  that  I  could  always  count  on 
you  to " 

The  engine  began  to  cough  peevishly  and  he  stopped 
to  investigate. 

"Here's  luck!"  he  exclaimed  spitefully  as  he  got 
back  into  the  car.  "Just  about  enough  gas  to  pull 
us  to  that  garage  half  a  mile  ahead.  I  guess  some- 
body's pinned  a  jinx  on  the  evening!" 

"I'll  wait  outside,"  she  said  when  the  car  had  been 
coaxed  to  the  garage. 

"Only  a  minute,  Grace.    I'm  awfully  sorry." 

As  she  stood  on  the  cement  driveway  the  whistle 
followed  by  a  flash  of  the  headlight  of  an  incoming 
interurban  car  on  the  track  that  ran  parallel  with  the 
highway  caught  her  attention.  Across  the  road  sev- 
eral people  were  waiting  on  the  platform  and  she 
resolved  to  board  the  car  if  it  stopped  before  Cum- 
mings reappeared.  She  was  in  a  humor  to  annoy  him 
if  she  could  and  as  the  car  slowed  down  she  began 
to  walk  slowly  toward  the  platform  and  then  with  a 
glance  over  her  shoulder  ran  and  swung  herself  aboard. 
As  the  car  got  under  way  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  the 
roadster  as  Cummings  backed  it  out.  She  derived 
no  small  degree  of  satisfaction  from  the  reflection  that 
her  departure  in  this  fashion  expressed  her  scorn 
of  him  more  effectually  than  anything  she  could  have 
said. 

She  left  the  car  at  the  interurban  station  and  walked 
home.  Her  knowledge  of  life  was  broadening  and 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  207 

that  too  in  divisions  of  the  Great  Curriculum  of  whose 
very  existence  she  had  had  only  the  haziest  conscious- 
ness. Her  freedom,  the  independence  she  so  greatly 
prized,  was  not  without  its  perils.  Her  thoughts  took 
a  high  range;  she  wondered  whether  after  all  the  in- 
dividual could,  without  incurring  serious  hazards, 
ignore  the  warnings  and  safeguards  established  for  the 
protection  of  society. 

She  wanted  to  laugh  over  the  encounter  at  Mc- 
Govern's,  but  in  the  quiet  street  it  was  not  so 
easy  to  laugh  at  it.  What  society  had  done  to 
educate  her,  to  fortify  and  strengthen  her  for  the 
battle  of  life — a  phrase  she  detested  from  her  mother's 
frequent  use  of  it — counted  for  naught.  She  was 
alarmed  to  find  that  she  never  really  reached  any 
conclusion  in  attempting  to  settle  her  problems. 
When  she  thought  she  had  determined  any  of  the 
matters  that  rose  with  so  malevolent  an  insistence  for 
decision  some  unexpected  turn  left  her  still  beset  by 
uncertainties. 

Two  policemen  standing  on  a  corner  stopped  talk- 
ing as  she  passed  and  she  felt  their  eyes  following 
her.  They  symbolized  the  power  of  the  law;  they 
were  agents  of  society,  they  were  representatives  of 
the  order  of  things  against  which  she  had  been  try- 
ing to  persuade  herself  she  was  in  rebellion.  She  now 
seriously  questioned  the  desirability  of  being  a  rebel;' 
such  a  status  had  its  disagreeable  and  uncomfortable 
side. 

When  she  reached  her  room  she  sat  down  thinking 
she  would  write  her  usual  daily  letter  to  Trenton;! 
but  with  paper  before  her  and  a  pen  in  her  hand  she 
was  unable  to  bring  herself  to  it.  The  disturbance 
at  McGovern's  had  shaken  her  more  than  she  liked 
to  believe. 


208  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

In  her  cogitations,  as  she  lay  in  the  dark  unable 
to  sleep,  she  wondered  whether  the  incident  at  Mc- 
Govern's  might  not  be  a  warning,  which  she  would  do 
well  to  heed,  to  discourage  Trenton's  further  atten- 
tions. Trenton  might  in  a  similar  circumstances  be- 
have no  better  than  Bob  had  behaved  and  she  was  not 
anxious  to  subject  herself  to  the  ire  of  another  indig- 
nant wife. 


CHAPTER  EIGHT 


GRACE  was  keenly  disappointed  at  receiving  no  let- 
ter from  Trenton  the  next  day.  She  canvassed  all 
possible  explanations  of  this  first  lapse  in  their  cor- 
respondence. Whatever  might  be  the  cause  she  de- 
cided not  to  write  until  she  heard  from  him  again. 
She  passed  an  unhappy  morning  and  was  relieved 
when  Irene  asked  her  to  go  to  lunch.  It  was  possi- 
ble that  Irene  might  have  some  news  of  Trenton,  as 
he  and  Kemp  were  constantly  in  touch  with  each 
other. 

"Tell  me  I  look  perfectly  all  right — just  as  though 
nothing  had  happened,"  Irene  remarked  when  they 
had  given  their  order. 

"Well,  if  you  want  to  know,  you're  just  a  trifle 
paler  than  usual;  but  I'd  never  have  noticed  it. 
What's  the  trouble?" 

Irene  answered  by  holding  out  her  left  hand. 

"The  emerald  is  no  more!  Oh,  I  haven't  sent  it 
back!  I've  just  stuck  it  down  in  the  bottom  of  a 
drawer  with  a  lot  of  other  old  junk.  It's  all  over, 
my  dear." 

"You  and  Tommy  have  quitl"  Grace  exclaimed. 

"Finished,  quit — whatever  you  like.  You'll  remem- 
ber I  told  you  such  things  can't  last.  Please  don't 
think  I  wasn't  prepared!  But  to  a  certain  extent 
Tommy  did  fool  me.  I  thought  he  really  cared  for 
me  and  I  won't  deny  that  I  thought  a  lot  of  him." 

"This  is  certainly  a  surprise,"  Grace  remarked,  not- 

209 


210  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

ing  signs  of  dejection  in  the  usually  placid  Irene  that 
had  previously  escaped  her. 

"Well,  I  got  a  line  on  him  a  few  days  ago.  It's 
a  small  world  and  things  have  a  way  of  getting  round." 

Irene  spoke  as  one  whose  philosophy  is  quite  equal 
to  any  demand  that  may  be  made  upon  it.  She  di- 
lated upon  the  general  perfidy  of  man  as  though 
her  personal  disappointment  was  negligible  and  only 
to  be  mentioned  for  purposes  of  illustration.  She 
continued  in  this  vein  so  long  that  Grace  began  to 
fear  she  was  not  to  learn  just  what  had  happened  to 
shatter  Irene's  faith  in  Kemp. 

"Let's  consider  all  the  male  species  dead  and 
buried!  I'm  dying  of  curiosity.  Just  what  happened 
to  you  and  Tommy?" 

"He  lied  to  me,  that's  all;  and  I  found  him  out." 

"That's  too  bad;  I'm  ever  so  sorry,"  Grace  replied, 
not  knowing  whether  Irene  sought  consolation  for  the 
loss  of  her  lover  or  wanted  to  be  congratulated  on 
her  prescience  in  foreseeing  the  inevitable  end  of  the 
affair. 

"Oh,  it's  all  right  with  me!  But  I  can't  deny  that 
when  it  came  it  was  a  jar.  You  see  Tommy's  mighty 
good  fun  and  awfully  clever.  I  learned  a  lot  from 
Tommy;  he  used  to  tell  me  everything.  I'll  wager 
he's  sorry  now  he  told  me  a  lot  of  most  intimate 
things,  about  people  and  business  and  even  his  family 
affairs;  but  they're  safe,  I'd  never  betray  his  con- 
fidence even  if  he  has  gone  back  on  me." 

"Of  course  not;  you'd  never  do  that,"  Grace  as- 
sented, and  saw  that  Irene  was  pleased  by  this  testi- 
mony to  her  high-mindedness.  "Maybe  there's  some 
mistake  about  it.  Of  course  you'll  give  Tommy  a 
chance  to  explain." 

"Oh,  I  gave  him  the  chance  all  right  enough.    It 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  211 

was  over  the  telephone  and,  my  dear,  you  should  have 
heard  him  gasp  when  I  put  it  up  to  him!" 

"Go  on  and  tell  me  what  Tommy  did  or  let's  stop 
talking  about  it!" 

"I'm  going  to  tell  you.  You  and  Minnie  Lawton 
are  the  only  people  I  could  tell.  I've  been  meeting 
Tommy  at  Minnie's  apartment  and  she  has  to  know 
why  I'm  not  going  there  any  more.  Tommy's  al- 
ways told  me  I  was  the  only  one — that  old,  old  story! 
Well,  a  certain  person — he  didn't  know  I  knew 
Tommy — was  asking  me  about  him  the  other  day. 
He  said  he'd  seen  Tommy  in  Chicago  with  a  very 
nifty  girl  he  seemed  to  be  chummy  with.  He  saw 
them  together  last  Saturday  night.  Now,  Tommy 
had  a  date  with  me  for  Saturday  evening  but  he  told 
me  Friday  he  was  going  to  Chicago  unexpectedly  with 
his  wife  for  the  opera.  He  didn't  take  his  wife  to 
Chicago — I  easily  found  that  out.  Tommy  went  to 
Chi  all  right  enough  but  not  to  hear  Mary  Garden. 
So,  there's  the  end  of  our  little  romance." 

"What  did  Tommy  have  to  say  for  himself?" 

"What  could  he  say!"  Irene  exclaimed  disdainfully. 
"He  wanted  to  see  me  of  course;  said  he  could  ex- 
plain everything,  but  I  said  good-bye  very  sweetly 
and  hung  up  on  him.  I'd  like  to  see  him  explain  a 
thing  like  that!  I  suppose  he  thought  he'd  send  me 
a  box  of  candy  and  everything  would  be  lovely.  I'm 
a  good  deal  of  a  fool,  my  dear,  but  hardly  to  that 
extent." 

"I  shouldn't  just  pick  you  out  to  try  putting  any- 
thing over  on." 

"They're  all  alike!"  Irene  resumed,  ignoring  Grace's 
tribute  to  her  perspicacity.  "Men  expect  women  to 
take  everything.  Poor  Tommy  I  If  he  doesn't  stop 
drinking  he's  going  to  die  real  quick  one  of  these  days. 


212  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

I  guess  he  didn't  like  my  lecturing  him  so  much.  You 
know  I  was  interested  in  all  his  plans — he's  no  end 
ambitious  and  he  used  to  invite  my  little  hints  and 
suggestions;  not  that  I  really  know  about  machinery 
or  finance,  but  I  suppose  I  have  got  a  business  head." 

"You  certainly  have,  Irene.  You'll  have  a  big  busi- 
ness of  your  own  some  day  or  a  wonderful  position 
in  New  York.  You  could  easily  swing  our  depart- 
ment now." 

"I  suppose  I  might,  but  I've  almost  decided  to  get 
married.  Oh,  don't  jump!  I  mean  when  I  see  a 
good  chance.  Now  that  I'm  done  with  Tommy  the 
idea  doesn't  seem  so  bad.  Perhaps,"  she  added,  "per- 
haps we're  not  fair  to  marriage !  There  may  be  some- 
thing in  it  after  all." 

"There  are  still  people  who  think  so,"  said  Grace, 
impelled  to  laughter  by  Irene's  gravity. 

"Oh,  I  suppose  we've  got  to  recognize  it  I  How's 
Ward  these  days?  Still  roaming  the  world?" 

"In  New  York  the  last  I  heard  of  him,  and  terribly 
busy." 

"Do  you  know,  there's  something  pathetic  about 
Ward  Trenton,"  said  Irene.  "There's  something  away 
back  in  his  mind  that  he  tries  to  hide  even  from  him- 
self! You  know  what  I  mean?  It's  his  wife,  I  sup- 
pose. I  saw  her  picture  in  a  magazine  not  so  long  ago 
and  meant  to  show  it  to  you.  She's  not  at  all  the 
frump  you'd  expect  from  her  being  an  author  and 
lecturer,  but  quite  handsome  and  smartly  got  up. 
It's  certainly  queer  that  a  woman  like  that  who  has 
scads  of  money  and  a  real  man  for  a  husband  won't 
stay  at  her  own  fireside,  but  has  to  trot  around  show- 
ing herself  off.  And  Ward's  fascinating;  those  quiet 
self-contained  men  are  always  fascinating.  And  they 
certainly  keep  you  guessing  as  to  what  they  think. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  213 

Take  poor  Tommy;  once  he's  away  from  business  he's 
got  to  be  amused.  But  Ward's  different.  That  man 
does  a  lot  of  solid  thinking  even  when  he's  out  to 
play." 

"He's  kind,  he's  awfully  kind,"  Grace  murmured. 

With  the  Cummings's  episode  and  its  very  obvious 
lesson  still  playing  through  her  thoughts  Grace  eagerly 
welcomed  Irene's  praise  of  Trenton,  feeling  the  need 
of  just  the  assurances  her  friend  was  giving  her  as 
to  his  fine  qualities,  which  attained  a  new  dignity  in 
view  of  Kemp's  inconstancy. 

"Ward's  perfectly  splendid,"  Irene  continued  as 
though  fearing  she  hadn't  done  Trenton  full  justice. 
"I've  never  had  any  illusions  about  Tommy;  I  always 
knew  I'd  have  to  pass  him  up  some  day.  But  don't 
let  me  shake  your  faith  in  dear  old  Ward.  He  won't 
lie  to  you;  he'd  tell  the  truth  if  it  ruined  him." 

"You  really  think  that?"  asked  Grace  with  a  slight 
quaver  in  her  voice  which  the  watchful  Irene  did  not 
miss. 

"Of  course  I  think  it!  But  with  two  people  as  in- 
tense in  your  different  ways  as  you  and  Ward,  you're 
likely  to  hurt  each  other  terribly.  I've  been  awfully 
careful  what  I've  said  to  you,  Grace,  about — well — 
about  going  the  limit  with  Ward.  But  I  can  see  you're 
not  just  throwing  yourself  at  his  head.  And  Ward, 
if  I  know  him,  is  not  going  to  expect  you  to." 

"Oh,  he's  fine!"  said  Grace,  averting  her  eyes.  "No 
one  could  be  finer,  but " 

"Yes,  my  dear;  there's  that  but  we  always  bring  up 
against!  I  won't  say  a  word  about  Tommy  and  me. 
Of  course  I  never  loved  Tommy  but  I  thought  he  was 
a  good  fellow  and  on  the  level;  and  it  was  exciting 
while  it  lasted.  That's  what  catches  a  lot  of  girls  who 
go  in  for  such  little  affairs  as  mine  with  Tommy.  It's 


214  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

the  excitement  of  doing  something  they  know's  dead 
wrong  and  bound  to  end  in  a  smash-up." 

As  Grace  was  eating  little  and  seemed  dispirited, 
Irene  recurred  to  Trenton. 

"Ward  would  never  be  satisfied  just  to  play  around 
with  a  girl,  knowing  that  whenever  he  got  tired  he'd 
chuck  her  and  pick  up  another.  I'm  saying  this  be- 
cause I  know  he  fell  for  you  hard  that  very  first  night 
you  met;  it  was  a  clear  case  of  love  at  first  sight  with 
you  two.  I'm  not  just  kidding  you;  you  know  as  well 
as  I  do  you're  different  from  other  girls.  You've  got 
brains  and  poise.  Not  that  you  weren't  always  a  lot 
of  fun  and  a  good  pal, — I  never  knew  a  girl  who  was 
as  much  fun  to  play  with.  But  you've  always  kept 
your  self-respect  and  held  your  head  high.  Ward  likes 
that  in  you  because  he's  that  sort  himself." 

"I  wish  I  could  believe  you're  right  but,  Irene, 
sometimes  I  don't  feel  I  know  myself  at  all  I  When 
I  quit  college  I  was  full  of  self-conceit  and  thought 
I  had  a  strong  grip  on  myself.  I  was  going  to  test 
out  life — find  out  everything  in  my  own  way.  But 
there  are  times  when  I  get  scared.  I  thought  it  would 
be  fun  to  drift  along  for  awhile,  just  trying  myself 
out  and  I  was  sure  I  could  stop  whenever  I  pleased 
and  settle  on  something.  But  I'm  not  doing  itl 
What's  the  matter  with  me  anyhow?"  she  demanded 
mournfully. 

"You're  in  love!  Don't  you  think  I  haven't  been 
watching  the  awful  symptoms.  You've  got  a  real 
case  I " 

"Do  you  really  mean  that?  Would  you  really 
know?"  asked  Grace  eagerly. 

"Would  I  know?  I  could  see  it  with  my  eyes  shut. 
And  I  can  see  it's  troubling  you.  These  are  things 
we've  all  got  to  settle  for  ourselves,  my  dear.  And 
from  what  I  know  of  Ward  I'll  wager  he's  taking  it 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  215 

just  as  hard  as  you  are.  He's  married  and  he  knows 
just  what  the  whole  thing  means.  I'd  be  disappointed 
in  him  if  he  didn't  give  you  a  good  chance  to  drop 
him  now  even  though  he  suffered  terribly.  And  he's 
of  the  kind  who  do  suffer  all  right." 

"It  might  be  better,"  said  Grace  soberly,  "if  I  didn't 
see  him  again!" 

"You're  going  to  be  unhappy  if  you  do  that.  You'd 
both  be  unhappy.  Of  course,  there's  his  wife.  He'd 
be  likely  to  think  of  her  pride  and  dignity, — chivalry 
and  all  that  sort  of  stuff.  And  if  he  got  a  divorce! 
and  married  you  the  whole  business  might  be  unpleas- 
ant. You're  not  the  sort  of  girl  who  could  go  through 
a  thing  like  that  without  suffering  terribly.  It's  some- 
thing for  you  to  think  about,  my  dearl" 

In  spite  of  her  trouble  with  Kemp,  Irene  was  eat- 
ing a  substantial  luncheon.  There  were  times  when 
Grace  felt  an  aversion  for  Irene.  The  most  sacred 
relationships  of  life  the  girl  treated  with  a  cold  cynic- 
ism that  affected  Grace  disagreeably.  She  was  ponder- 
ing the  sordidness  of  Irene's  liason  with  Kemp.  The 
lofty  condescension  with  which  Irene  spoke  of  him 
amused  Grace  only  mildly. 

"Wouldn't  it  be  grand,"  Irene  continued,  "to  be 
made  love  to — I  mean  by  some  one  who  really  knew 
howl  Somebody  who'd  approach  you  as  though  you 
were  a  queen  and  stand  in  terrible  awe  of  you!  The 
trouble  with  all  us  women  nowadays  is  that  we're 
too  easy.  The  next  time  a  man  shows  any  symptoms 
of  being  interested  in  me  I'm  going  to  be  the  coy 
little  girl,  I  can  tell  you!  Oh,  I'm  not  thinking  of 
Tommy" — her  lip  curled — "I  mean  where  the  man 
really  respects  you  first  of  all.  I  tell  you,  Grace,  I'm 
pretty  well  fed  up  on  this  new  woman  stuff.  Believe 
me,  I'm  staying  home  with  mother  these  nights  knit- 
ting a  sweater  for  father,  and  Sunday  I'm  going  to 


216  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

put  on  a  big  apron  and  bake  a  cake — honest,  I  am! 
Women  do  better  as  a  domestic  animal  like  the  com- 
mon or  fireside  cat." 

"You  don't  really  think  that!"  Grace  exclaimed. 

"Oh,  I  know  Grace,  you're  all  for  our  glorious  in- 
dependence and  righting  in  the  ranks  shoulder  to 
shoulder  with  the  men.  But  the  trouble  is  we  can't 
fight  with  them;  we're  fighting  against  them  every 
hour  of  the  day!  My  dear,  there's  a  curse  on  us — 
the  curse  of  sex!  There's  absolutely  no  ducking  it. 
You  may  talk  all  you  like  about  equality  and  how 
men  and  women  meet  in  business  and  the  woman  is 
the  equal  of  the  man.  All  right!  She  may  have  just 
as  good  a  head  as  the  man  she's  dealing  with  but  if 
she  still  has  home-grown  teeth  and  her  face  isn't  pain- 
ful to  look  at  sex  is  all  mixed  up  in  the  figures.  You 
can't  get  away  from  it." 

"But,  Irene 1" 

"Oh,  I  saw  you  sell  a  woman  a  coat  yesterday — 
that  old  girl  from  up  in  the  bushes  whose  husband 
came  along  to  keep  her  from  blowing  his  bank  roll, 
and  it  was  the  man  you  sold  that  rag  to,  not  the 
woman.  Sex!  You're  a  pretty  girl,  you  know,  and  he 
spent  twice  what  he'd  let  her  blow  on  herself  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  your  blandishments.  And  when  I 
go  down  to  New  York  on  a  buying  jaunt  the  polite 
gentlemen  in  our  line  buy  me  expensive  dinners 
and  take  me  in  swift  taxies  to  the  theatre  and 
to  supper  and  to  snappy  dance  places  afterwards. 
That's  sex!  If  the  store  sends  a  man  down  there 
the  same  birds  buy  him  a  quick  lunch  and  that's  all. 
But  a  woman's  different!  Sex,  my  dear,  sex!" 

"Oh,  it's  not  as  bad  as  that!"  Grace  protested.  "I 
want  to  be  considered  as  a  human  being  first  and 
as  a  woman  afterwards.  I  don't  mind  saying  that 
there  have  been  times  lately  when  I've  wished  I  could 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  217 

see  things  as  mother  does,  but  I  can't.  There's  no 
use  trying  to  live  backwards.  I  just  couldn't  stay 
in  a  house  all  the  time  and  cook  and  sew  and  darn 
for  a  husband;  I'd  go  crazy  1" 

"Well,  the  home  life  listens  good  to  me  right  now!" 
replied  Irene  with  a  sigh.  "No;  this  is  my  turn 
to  pay  the  check.  By  the  way,  did  you  notice  that 
woman  I  waited  on  this  morning — the  dish-face  with 
too  much  paint  and  pearl  earrings  as  big  as  your 
fist — well,"  she  broke  off  abruptly — "here's  a  happy 
surprise!  If  I'm  not  mistaken  here's  the  tall  syca- 
more of  Raccoon  Creek!" 

"What  on  earth  are  you  talking  about — a  raccoon 
with  pearl  earrings?" 

"No;  a  certain  party  just  coming  in  the  door. 
Looks  like  your  old  college  chum  who  took  you  to  the 
football  game." 

Grace  turned  to  find  John  Moore  bearing  down 
upon  their  table. 

"You  will  excuse  me,  won't  you?"  he  exclaimed  radi- 
antly as  he  shook  hands.  "Oh,  I  remember  Miss 
Kirby;  ashamed  of  myself  if  I  didn't.  Well,  Grace, 
they  told  me  you  were  up  here  at  lunch  so  I  thought 
I'd  take  a  chance.  Hope  you've  got  a  minute.  I  came 
to  town  on  particular  business.  Sold  an  Airedale  pup 
and  brought  him  up  to  make  special  delivery." 

"You  have  a  kennel,  Mr.  Moore?"  asked  Irene. 
"I  adore  Airedales." 

"I'll  say  it's  a  kennel!"  John  answered  as  he  drew 
a  chair  from  an  adjoining  table  and  seated  himself. 
"Grace  knows  the  place;  an  old  barn,  one  of  the  pro- 
fessors let's  me  use  for  taking  care  of  his  furnace. 
I'm  selling  off  my  pups  now  before  I  move  to  the 
great  city.  I'll  be  lonesome  without  a  dog  when 
I  come  up  after  Christmas.  When  I  went  West  last 


218  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

summer  as  an  honest  farm  hand  I  had  to  leave  my 
dogs  for  a  darky  to  look  after  and  I  certainly  did 
miss  them.  But  I've  got  twenty-five  dollars  apiece  for 
them,"  he  concluded,  with  a  frank  appeal  for  their 
approval. 

He  gave  Grace  the  latest  news  of  the  university, 
explaining  his  items  for  Irene's  enlightenment.  When 
Grace  asked  him  about  particular  girls  he  pro- 
tested that  he  had  never  heard  of  their  existence.  Grace 
was  just  kidding  him,  he  said. 

"The  fact  is,  Miss  Kirby,  since  Grace  left  the 
campus  I  haven't  seen  any  girls." 

"I  can  well  believe  it,"  Irene  replied.  "With  Grace 
gone  there's  nothing  left  of  the  picture  but  the  frame. 
She's  one  in  a  million.  You'll  look  a  long  time  be- 
fore you  find  another  girl  like  Grace  Durland." 

"You've  said  something!"  John  affirmed,  and  pre- 
tending that  Grace  was  not  present  he  and  Irene  en- 
gaged in  a  lively  discussion  of  Grace's  merits.  With 
Irene  this  was  of  course  only  a  device  for  flirting 
with  John.  John  understood  perfectly  that  she  was 
flirting  with  him.  As  this  went  on  John  and  Irene 
were  taking  careful  note  of  each  other.  Two  natures 
could  not  have  been  more  truly  antipodal.  Grace  was 
amused  to  see  them  at  such  pains  to  please  each  other. 
She  interrupted  them  occasionally  with  a  question  as  to 
some  virtue  attributed  to  her,  which  they  feigned  not 
to  hear  but  answered  indirectly. 

He  was  already  preparing  for  his  removal  to  the 
city  and  wore  a  new  suit  and  hat  and  carried  a  pair  of 
tan  gloves  which  obviously  had  not  been  worn.  He 
struck  his  hat  with  them  occasionally  as  he  talked. 
John  had  always  been  quick  to  note  little  tricks  of 
manner  and  speech  and  when  they  pleased  him  he 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  219 

frankly  adopted  them.  His  manner  of  playing  with 
his  gloves  was  imitated  from  a  young  instructor  at 
the  university  who  carried  gloves  with  him  every- 
where, even  into  the  class  room,  where  he  played 
with  them  as  he  heard  recitations.  John  in  his  new 
raiment  looked  less  like  a  countryman  than  Grace 
had  thought  possible.  She  recalled  what  a  cynical 
senior  had  once  said  of  him — that  above  the  collar 
he  looked  like  a  signer  of  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence but  that  the  rest  of  him  was  strongly  sug- 
gestive of  the  barnyard.  His  eyes  missed  nothing; 
he  was  too  eager  to  get  ahead  in  the  world  not  to 
study  his  own  imperfections  and  overcome  them. 
Having  impressed  John  with  the  idea  that  for  the 
few  minutes  they  spent  together  he  was  the  only  speci- 
men of  the  male  species  in  the  world,  Irene  languidly 
glanced  at  her  watch. 

"Only  ten  minutes  to  get  back,  Grace.  I'll  keep 
the  wheels  of  commerce  turning  while  you  talk  to 
Mr.  Moore.  Do  forgive  me,  old  things,  for  keeping 
you  waiting." 

As  she  gathered  up  her  purse  and  vanity  box  Moore 
protested  that  he  and  Grace  had  nothing  to  say  to 
each  other  which  she  might  not  hear. 

"Oh,  don't  try  that  on  mel"  Irene  replied,  looking 
from  one  to  the  other  meaningfully. 

"If  you  leave  us  alone  John  will  begin  talking 
poetry,"  said  Grace.  "Please  wait,  I  don't  feel  a  bit 
like  poetry  today  1" 

"There,  Miss  Kirby;  you  see  Grace  doesn't  want 
to  be  alone  with  me!  I'll  tell  you  what!  I'm  stay- 
ing in  town  tonight  and  it  would  be  fine  if  we  could  all 
go  to  a  show  together.  There's  a  picture  I've  read 
about — 'Mother  Earth,'  they  call  it;  said  to  give  a 
fine  idea  of  pioneer  life.  I  guess  we  owe  it  to  the 


220  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

folks  who  drove  out  the  Indians  and  cleaned  up  the 
varmints  to  show  'em  a  little  respect,  and  they  say 
that  picture's  a  humdinger.  If  you  don't  like  the 
notion  and  there's  some  other  show " 

His  eyes  were  bright  with  expectancy  as  he  awaited 
their  decision. 

"You  see,"  he  added  with  a  broad  smile,  "now  that 
I've  sold  my  last  pup  and  paid  my  debts  I  feel  a  little 
like  celebrating." 

"Thank  you  ever  so  much,  Mr.  Moore,"  said  Irene, 
"but  really,  I " 

"Why,  of  course  you  can  go,  Irene,"  exclaimed 
Grace,  who  had  not  missed  Irene's  look  of  consterna- 
tion when  John  suggested  spending  an  evening  view- 
ing a  movie  illustrative  of  the  sacrifices  of  the 
pioneers.  However,  Irene  had  quickly  recovered  from 
the  shock  and  seemed  to  be  seriously  considering 
John's  invitation. 

"I'll  be  glad  to  go,  thank  you,  John;  but  of  course 
we  must  have  Irene!" 

"Certainly,  we  want  Miss  Kirby,"  John  declared. 

"But  if  you  hadn't  seen  me  here,  Mr.  Moore,  you'd 
never  have  thought  of  asking  me.  You  know  you 
wouldn't." 

"Honestly,  I  thought  of  it  before  I  came  into  the 
store!  Ever  since  that  day  you  were  so  nice  about 
letting  Grace  off  to  go  to  the  game  I've  had  a  feeling 
I'd  like  to  show  you  some  trifling  attention.  I'll  take 
it  as  another  favor  if  you'll  go." 

"Oh,  if  you  put  it  that  way,  Mr.  Moore,  of  course 
I  accept,"  said  Irene.  "I  must  skip;  you  stay,  Grace, 
and  arrange  the  little  details." 

"It's  mighty  nice  of  Miss  Kirby  to  go,"  John  re- 
marked as  he  resumed  his  seat  after  bowing  Irene 
from  the  table.  "And  it  must  make  things  a  lot  easier 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  221 

for  you  to  have  a  fine  girl  like  that  to  work  with.  You 
can  tell  she  knows  her  business.  I  guess  nothing's  go- 
ing to  rattle  her  much!" 

"What  are  you  trying  to  do,  John;  make  me  jeal- 
ous?" laughed  Grace. 

"Now  Grace,  you  know " 

What  would  John  think,  Grace  wondered — John  of 
the  high  ideals  and  aspirations,  if  he  knew  that  it  was 
only  because  Irene  had  broken  with  a  man  whose  mis- 
tress she  had  been  and  in  consequence  was  disposed  to 
take  refuge  in  things  wholly  foreign  to  her  nature  and 
experience,  that  she  had  accepted  an  invitation  to 
attend  a  picture  show  that  celebrated  the  joys  and 
sorrows  of  the  pioneers! 

It  was  settled  that  John  should  go  home  with  her 
for  supper  and  that  they  would  meet  Irene  in  the 
lobby  of  the  theatre.  Grace  took  occasion  to  caution 
John  against  mentioning  Irene  at  home.  Her  mother 
and  Ethel  didn't  like  Irene,  she  explained. 

"I  don't  see  but  she's  a  pretty  fine  girl,"  John  re- 
plied. "And  it  makes  a  hit  with  me  that  she's  such  a 
good  friend  of  yours." 

"Of  course  I'm  not  going,"  said  Irene  when  Grace 
went  back  to  her  department.  "I  supposed  you  under- 
stood that." 

"I  certainly  didn't.  John  wanted  you  or  he  wouldn't 
have  asked  you.  You  know  what  you  were  saying 
about  sex!  Here's  a  chance  to  prove  you  can  forget 
it.  Let's  assume  John's  taking  us  to  a  movie  merely 
because  we're  charming  and  amusing  persons;  just 
as  he  might  take  a  couple  of  young  men." 

"Well  I  don't  care  anything  about  going  to  a  show 
right  now  when  I'm  wearing  mourning  for  myself,  but 
I'd  just  like  to  sit  near  that  suitor  of  yours  for  an 
hour  or  two.  He  does  me  good." 


222  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

This  was  not  like  Irene,  and  Grace  discounted  heav- 
ily her  friend's  admiration  for  John.  It  was  merely 
that  Irene  was  contrasting  John  with  Kemp,  in  much 
the  same  spirit  that  she  had  praised  Trenton  at  the 
lunch  table. 

"If  he  knew  me  for  what  I  am  he'd  probably  run 
like  a  scared  rabbit,"  said  Irene,  slipping  a  tape-line 
through  her  fingers.  "I  felt  myself  an  awful  fraud  all 
the  time  I  talked  to  him." 

"You  can  always  rely  on  John  to  think  the  best  of 
everybody  and  everything,"  Grace  replied.  "He's  a 
mighty  satisfactory  sort  of  person.  If  I  ever  got  into 
trouble  I  know  John  would  stand  by  me." 

"I  believe  you're  right,"  Irene  returned.  "A  man 
with  eyes  like  his  is  bound  to  be  mighty  square.  But 
when  I  sat  there  kidding  him  about  you  I  did  feel  aw- 
fully guilty  and  ashamed  of  myself.  I  was  afraid 
those  eyes  might  see  too  much!" 

"Come  out  of  the  dark!"  exclaimed  Grace.  "We'd 
better  go  to  work.  John's  going  home  to  supper  with 
me  and  we'll  meet  you  in  the  Pendennis  lobby  at  a 
quarter  before  eight." 


II 


The  afternoon  passed  and  still  no  letter  from  Tren- 
ton. Grace  was  glad  that  she  had  not  told  Irene 
how  far  Trenton  had  gone  in  declaring  himself.  Not 
even  Irene  should  know  how  much  she  cared  for  Tren- 
ton. She  indulged  in  the  luxury  of  self-pity,  picturing 
herself  going  through  life  with  the  remembrance  of  him 
like  a  wound  in  her  heart  that  would  never  heal.  And 
after  summoning  her  courage  to  meet  such  a  situation 
she  was  swept  with  a  great  tenderness  as  she  thought 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  223 

of  him,  remembering  the  touch  of  his  hand,  his  kiss 
on  her  lips. 

When  she  called  up  her  mother  to  say  that  she  was 
bringing  John  home  Mrs.  Durland  reminded  her  that 
this  was  the  night  Ethel  had  asked  Mr.  Haley  to  sup- 
per. Grace  had  been  fully  informed  as  to  Mr.  Haley's 
acceptance  of  Ethel's  invitation  but  in  her  confused 
state  of  mind  she  had  forgotten  it.  Haley  was  Ethel's 
discovery  and  Grace  had  several  times  encountered 
him  in  the  Durland  parlor.  Recently  Ethel  had  been 
referring  to  the  young  man  a  little  self-consciously  by 
his  first  name.  Osgood  Haley  was  twenty-seven,  a 
well  appearing  young  man,  who  was  a  city  salesman 
for  a  wholesale  grocery  firm.  Mrs.  Durland  had  satis- 
fied herself  by  inquiries  of  an  acquaintance  in  the  town 
in  which  Haley  had  originated  that  he  was  of  good 
family  and  he  was  thereupon  made  to  feel  at  home  in 
the  Durland  household. 

Ethel  had  met  him  in  her  Sunday  school  where 
within  a  few  weeks  after  taking  a  class  of  boys  he  had 
doubled  its  membership.  It  was  his  personality,  Ethel 
said;  and  beyond  question  Haley  had  a  great  deal  of 
personality.  Among  other  items  of  Haley's  biography 
Ethel  had  acquainted  the  family  with  the  fact  that 
his  interest  in  religion  was  due  to  the  influence  of  a 
girl  to  whom  he  had  been  engaged  but  who  died  only 
a  short  time  before  the  day  appointed  for  their  wed- 
ding. Ethel  made  a  great  deal  of  this.  Haley's  devo- 
tion to  the  memory  of  the  girl  he  had  loved  was  very 
beautiful  as  Ethel  described  it,  and  Mrs.  Durland  said 
that  such  devotion  was  rare  in  these  times. 

Haley  had  brought  to  perfection  a  manner  that  not 
only  had  proved  its  efficacy  in  selling  groceries  but  was 
equally  impressive  in  the  parlor.  When  he  shook 
a  hand  he  clung  to  it  while  he  smiled  into  the  face  of 


224  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

its  owner  and  uttered  one  of  a  number  of  cheerful  re- 
marks from  a  list  with  which  he  was  fortified.  These 
were  applied  with  good  judgment  and  went  far  to- 
ward convincing  the  person  greeted  that  Mr.  Haley 
was  the  possessor  of  some  secret  of  happiness  which 
he  benevolently  desired  to  communicate  to  all  man- 
kind. 

Ethel  having  gone  home  early  to  prepare  some  spe- 
cial dishes  for  her  guest,  came  in  flushed  from  the 
kitchen  just  as  Haley  arrived  with  Grace  and  John, 
who  had  met  him  on  the  street  car.  Mr.  Durland  had 
meekly  submitted  to  investiture  in  a  white  shirt  in 
honor  of  the  occasion.  He  had  confused  Haley  with 
a  young  man  from  Rangerton  who  sometimes  visited 
the  family.  When  he  had  been  set  straight  on  this 
point  they  went  to  the  table  where  the  talk  opened 
promisingly. 

Haley  needed  no  encouragement  to  talk;  he  was  a 
born  talker.  He  was  abundantly  supplied  with  anec- 
dotes, drawn  from  his  experience  as  a  saleman,  which 
proved  that  a  cheery  and  optimistic  spirit  will  over- 
come all  obstacles.  John  provoked  him  to  renewed 
efforts  by  insisting  that  theoretically  the  position  of 
the  pessimist  is  sound.  Haley  would  have  none  of  this. 
He  had  found,  he  declared,  that  hope  is  infectious  and 
he  derived  the  liveliest  satisfaction  from  his  success  in 
overcoming  the  prejudice  and  reluctance  of  difficult 
customers. 

"You  two  boys  make  a  splendid  team,"  remarked 
Mrs.  Durland.  "I  suppose  you  don't  know  many  people 
here,  John." 

"Only  frat  brothers  and  boys  who've  graduated 
from  the  University  since  I've  been  there.  There's 
quite  a  bunch  of  them,  too,  for  I've  been  plugging 
around  the  sacred  groves  of  academe  a  long  time." 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  225 

"I  suppose  you'll  be  so  busy  when  you  move  to  town 
you'll  have  to  limit  your  social  life,"  said  Ethel.  "But 
we  all  need  outside  interests.  Osgood  has  been  here  a 
year  but  it  was  some  time  before  he  found  just  what 
he  needed." 

Haley  rose  to  this  promptly  by  saying  that  being 
received  in  a  home  like  the  Durland's  was  the  pleas- 
antest  thing  that  had  ever  happened  to  him. 

"Oh  course,  John,"  Ethel  continued,  "you  will  find 
a  church  connection  helpful.  I  hope  you  will  hear 
Dr.  Ridgley  before  handing  in  your  letter  anywhere 
else." 

"By  all  means,"  said  Haley.  "I  tried  several 
churches  before  I  finally  settled  on  Dr.  Ridgley's. 
He's  helped  me  over  a  lot  of  hard  places  just  by  a  word 
or  two.  It  just  occurs  to  me,  Ethel,  that  John,"  (Haley 
was  already  calling  Moore  by  his  first  name)  "would 
enjoy  Mr.  Forman's  bible  class.  They're  all  business 
and  professional  men  and  Mr.  Forman  is  a  thorough 
Bible  student.  If  I  didn't  enjoy  my  boys  so  much 
I'd  certainly  never  miss  a  Sunday  morning  with  Mr. 
Forman." 

"You  see,  John,  we're  trying  to  fix  everything  up 
for  you,"  said  Mrs.  Durland,  turning  a  sympathetic 
glance  upon  Moore. 

Grace  was  unable  to  recall  that  she  had  ever  heard 
John  speak  of  churches,  though  in  their  walks  about 
Bloomington  he  had  discussed  religion  in  general  terms. 
She  doubted  whether,  with  his  many  engrossing  em- 
ployments, he  had  been  a  diligent  church-goer. 

"Don't  let  them  crowd  you,  John,"  she  said,  see- 
ing that  he  hesitated  to  commit  himself. 

"I'm  not  a  church  member,"  he  said  diffidently.  "I 
suppose  I'm  hardly  what  you'd  call  a  believer;  at  least 
I  don't  believe  all  you're  supposed  to  believe  if  you 


226  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

subscribe  to  a  creed.  I  hope  I'm  not  shocking  you 
folks  but  it  always  seems  to  me  there's  something 
stifling  about  a  church.  When  I  was  a  boy  on  the 
home  farm  and  all  the  neighbors  met  at  the  country 
church  every  Sunday,  I  always  hated  to  go  in;  it 
seemed  a  lot  cheerfuller  outside.  I  suppose  if  I  got 
right  down  to  it  I'd  say  I  believe  in  a  great  power 
that  I  haven't  any  name  for,  that  moves  the  world. 
It's  bigger  than  any  church,  and  it  works  in  all  of  us 
whether  we  go  to  church  or  not.  I  suppose  if  you 
got  down  to  bed  rock  you'd  call  me  an  agnostic.  But 
I'm  strong  for  whatever  any  church  does  to  help  people 
live  right.  When  it  comes  to  believing  a  lot  of  things 
I  can't  square  with  reason  I  just  can't  do  it." 

"That's  about  my  own  idea,"  ventured  Mr.  Dur- 
land,  who  had  been  bending  over  his  plate  with  his 
usual  stolid  silence. 

"We're  not  so  far  apart,  John,"  said  Mrs.  Durland, 
anxious  to  avert  the  deliverance  which  she  saw  from 
the  tense  look  in  Ethel's  face  was  imminent.  "We 
all  see  things  differently  these  days  and  I  think  it 
better  not  to  discuss  the  subject.  It's  far  too  per- 
sonal." 

"I  don't  see  how  you  can  say  such  a  thing,  mother," 
said  Ethel,  with  painstaking  enunciation.  "I  think  it 
our  solemn  duty  to  discuss  matters  that  affect  our 
souls.  If  there  ever  comes  a  time  when  I  can't  believe 
in  God  I  want  to  die!  I  don't  see  how  any  one  can 
live  without  the  hope  of  a  better  world  than  this. 
Without  that  nothing  would  be  worth  while." 

"Please  don't  think  I  want  to  destroy  anyone's 
faith,"  John  replied.  "But  for  myself  I  try  to  keep 
tight  hold  of  the  idea  that  it's  a  part  of  our  job  to  make 
that  better  world  right  here.  And  if  we  do  that  and 
there  is  a  better  place  after  death  I  don't  believe  any- 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  227 

body's  going  to  be  kept  out  of  it  for  not  believing 
what  he  can't." 

"John,"  began  Haley  with  a  deprecatory  smile, 
"that's  exactly  where  I  used  to  stand!  You  don't  need 
to  feel  discouraged  about  your  doubts.  If  we  just 
will  to  believe  we  can  overcome  everything.  That's 
the  truth,  isn't  it,  Ethel?" 

Ethel  promptly  affirmed  his  statement,  and  Mrs. 
Durland  softened  the  affirmation  out  of  deference  for 
John's  feelings. 

"I  think  I  agree  with  John,"  said  Grace;  "I'd  like 
to  believe  a  lot  of  things  the  church  teaches  but  I 
can't;  I'm  always  stumbling  over  some  doubt." 

"I  didn't  know  you  called  yourself  an  agnostic,"  said 
Ethel  severely. 

"I  don't  know  that  it's  necessary  to  classify  myself," 
Grace  replied  coldly. 

Haley  volunteered  to  lend  John  certain  books  which 
he  had  found  helpful  in  overcoming  his  own  doubts. 
John  listened  attentively  as  Haley  named  them  and 
replied  that  he  had  read  them  and  when  Mr.  Durland 
asked  John  if  he  had  read  "The  Age  of  Reason,"  Mrs. 
Durland  thwarted  Ethel's  attempt  to  denounce  that 
work  by  remarking  that  she  thought  they  could  all 
agree  that  every  effort  to  promote  peace  and  happiness 
in  the  world  was  worthy  of  encouragement. 

"You've  said  something  there,  Mrs.  Durland,"  said 
John  soberly.  "I'm  strong  for  that." 

"I  guess  that  leaves  us  nothing  to  quarrel  about  af- 
ter all,"  said  Haley,  beaming  with  tolerance. 

Ethel  resented  her  mother's  interference  with  the 
religious  discussion  just  when  she  was  ready  to  sweep 
away  all  agnostic  literature  with  a  quotation.  And 
she  was  displeased  to  find  John  again  exchang- 
ing stories  with  Haley.  She  had  counted  much  on  the 


228  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

beneficient  exercise  of  John's  influence  on  Grace  after 
he  settled  in  Indianapolis.  Her  father  was  hopeless 
where  religion  was  concerned  and  she  had  no  sympathy 
with  her  mother's  oft-reiterated  opinion  that  there 
was  something  good  in  all  churches.  Her  indignation 
increased  as  good  cheer  again  prevailed  at  the  table. 
She  waited  till  a  lull  in  the  story-telling  gave  her  an 
opportunity  to  ask  John,  with  an  air  of  the  utmost 
guilelessness,  the  proportion  of  women  to  men  in  the 
University.  John  answered  and  called  upon  Grace 
to  verify  his  figures.  Grace,  familiar  with  Ethel's 
mental  processes,  groped  for  the  motive  behind  the 
question.  Her  curiosity  as  to  what  her  sister  was  driv- 
ing at  was  quickly  satisfied. 

"I  was  just  wondering,  that's  all,"  remarked  Ethel 
carelessly.  "I  suppose  I  might  have  got  the  figures 
from  the  catalogue.  Oh,  by  the  way,  John,  Grace 
has  spoken  of  so  many  of  her  friends  in  college  I  feel 
that  I  almost  know  them.  Just  the  other  day  she  was 
speaking  of  a  Miss  Conwell — Mabel,  wasn't  it,  Grace? 
— who  must  be  a  very  interesting  girl.  She  had  her 
uncle  look  Grace  up  when  he  was  here  recently." 

"Conwell?"  repeated  John,  looking  inquiringly  at 
Grace,  who  sat  directly  opposite  him.  "Do  I  know 
a  Miss  Conwell?"  he  asked  and  catching  a  hint  from 
Grace's  eyes  that  something  was  amiss  he  added, 
"There's  such  a  lot  of  girls  down  there  I  get  'em  all 
mixed  up." 

"She's  from  Jeffersonville,  you  said,  didn't  you, 
Grace?"  asked  Ethel. 

"Jeffersonville  or  New  Albany,"  Grace  answered, 
"I'm  always  confusing  those  towns." 

John  was  now  aware  that  Grace  was  telegraphing  for 
help. 

"Oh,  yes;"  he  exclaimed,  "I  remember  Miss  Con- 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  229 

well.  "I'd  got  the  name  wrong;  I  thought  it  was  Con- 
way.  I  run  into  her  occasionally  at  the  library." 

"She  doesn't  seem  to  be  in  the  catalogue,"  Ethel 
persisted,  "but  that  may  be  because  they  don't  know 
where  she  comes  from." 

Haley  laughed  boisterously  at  this.  John,  detecting 
a  tinge  of  spite  in  Ethel's  pursuit  of  a  matter  that 
apparently  was  of  no  importance,  answered  that  he 
thought  Miss  Conwell  hadn't  taken  up  her  work  till 
after  the  fall  term  opened,  which  probably  accounted 
for  the  absence  of  her  name  from  the  catalogue. 

"She  is  a  special,  isn't  she,  Grace?"  he  asked. 

"Yes;  in  English,"  Grace  answered,  with  a  defiant 
look  at  her  sister. 

"That's  the  girl  who's  related  to  Mr.  Trenton?" 
asked  Durland,  vaguely  conscious  that  Grace  was  un- 
der fire.  "I  thought  that  was  the  name.  Trenton," 
he  explained  to  Moore,  "is  a  famous  engineer.  I  guess 
there's  nobody  stands  higher  in  his  line." 

"He's  the  husband  of  that  Mary  Graham  Trenton 
who  writes  horrible  books,"  announced  Ethel. 

"That's  got  nothing  to  do  with  Trenton's  standing 
as  an  engineer,"  Durland  replied  doggedly. 

"I  guess  no  man  has  to  stand  for  his  wife's  opinions 
these  days,"  said  John  conciliatingly. 

"Of  course  I  don't  know  what  Mr.  Trenton's  views 
are  on  the  subjects  his  wife  writes  about,"  said  Ethel. 
"But  Grace  probably  knows." 

"You  couldn't  expect  me  to  violate  Mr.  Trenton's 
confidence,"  Grace  replied. 

Fortunately  the  meal  was  concluded  and  Mrs.  Dur- 
land rose  from  the  table. 

"I'm  awfully  sorry,  John,"  said  Grace,  when  they 
reached  the  street.  "There's  no  reason  why  Ethel 
should  show  her  spite  at  me  when  we  have  company. 


230  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

She  thought  with  you  there  it  would  be  easy  to  catch 
me  in  a  lie.  It  was  a  nasty  trick;  but  it  was  splendid 
of  you  to  help  me  out." 

"You  don't  need  to  thank  me  for  that,"  said  John. 
"Ethel  was  sore  at  me  for  being  a  heathen  and  she 
thought  she'd  pot  us  both  with  one  shot.  And  I  guess 
she  did,"  he  ended  with  a  chuckle.  "It  would  be  easy 
for  her  to  prove  that  there's  no  Mabel  Conwell  at  the 
University.  But  why  make  so  much  fuss  about  it?" 

"It's  just  her  way  of  nosing  into  other  people's 
affairs.  If  she  hadn't  been  so  nasty  about  Mr.  Tren- 
ton in  the  first  place  I  wouldn't  have  had  to  lie." 

"It's  too  bad  Ethel's  got  that  spirit.  It  must  be 
hard  living  with  such  a  person." 

Irene  was  waiting  for  them  when  they  reached  the 
Pendennis.  Grace  noted  that  her  friend  wore  her  sim- 
plest gown  and  hat,  perhaps  as  an  outward  sign  of 
the  chastened  mood  in  which  Kemp's  passing  had  left 
her.  John  sat  between  them  and  their  enjoyment  of 
the  picture  was  enhanced  by  his  droll  comments. 

"It's  me  for  the  simple  life,"  said  Irene  at  the  end. 
"I'll  dream  of  myself  as  that  girl  in  the  sunbonnet 
going  down  the  lane  with  the  jug  of  buttermilk  for 
the  harvest  hands." 

"The  dream's  as  near  as  you'll  ever  come  to  itl" 
said  Grace.  "I  can  see  you  on  a  farml" 

"I'd  be  an  ideal  farmer's  wife,  wouldn't  I,  Mr. 
Moore?  I've  certainly  got  enough  sense  to  feed  the 
chickens." 

"When  you  weren't  doing  that  you  could  feed  the 
mortgage,"  John  replied.  "Let's  see,  which  one  of 
you  girls  am  I  going  to  take  home  first?" 

They  went  into  a  confectioner's  for  a  hot  chocolate 
and  to  discuss  this  momentous  question.  Irene  lived 
in  the  East  End,  much  farther  from  the  theatre  than 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  231 

Grace.  Grace  insisted  that  if  he  took  her  home  first 
she  would  think  it  because  he  wanted  to  spend  more 
time  with  Irene. 

"That  would  be  perfectly  satisfactory  to  me!"  said 
Irene  demurely. 

"I  don't  know  that  I'd  hate  it  so  much  myself," 
John  replied. 

"Do  you  ever  use  a  taxi,  Mr.  Moore?"  Irene  asked. 

"Not  on  the  price  of  one  Airedale!" 

When  he  suggested  seriously  that  the  whole  matter 
would  be  greatly  simplified  by  taking  a  taxi  Irene 
would  not  hear  of  it.  She  hadn't  meant  to  hint;  she 
was  just  joking.  They  continued  their  teasing  until 
they  reached  a  corner  where  Grace  settled  the  matter. 

"Irene  wins!"  she  cried  and  before  they  knew  what 
she  was  about  she  boarded  her  car  and  was  waving 
to  them  derisively  from  the  platform. 

Ill 

During  the  preparation  of  breakfast  the  next  morn- 
ing Ethel  apologized  for  her  conduct  at  the  supper 
table. 

"I  didn't  mean  to  speak  of  that  matter  at  all,  Grace. 
It's  none  of  my  business  how  you  met  Mr.  Trenton. 
I  don't  want  there  to  be  any  hard  feeling  between  us. 
I  realize  that  we  look  at  things  differently  and  I  want 
you  to  know  that  before  Osgood  left  last  night  I  made 
it  all  right  with  him.  I  told  him  it  was  just  a  joke 
between  you  and  me  about  Miss  Conwell.  I  wouldn't 
want  him  to  think  we  spend  our  time  quarreling." 

"I  hope  he  thought  it  was  funny,"  Grace  returned. 
"I  don't  mind  telling  you  that  there's  no  such  person 
as  Miss  Conwell.  John  backed  me  up  just  because 
he  resented  the  way  you  were  ragging  me.  He  knew 


232  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

perfectly  well  there's  no  Mabel  Conwell  at  the  Uni- 
versity." 

*     Mrs.  Durland  entered  the  kitchen  in  time  to  catch 
this  last  remark. 

"I  hope  you  know,  Grace,  that  neither  Ethel  nor  I 
have  any  wish  to  question  you  about  your  friends. 
I  scolded  Ethel  for  asking  you  about  Miss  Conwell 
before  company.  I'm  sure  she's  sorry." 

"I've  apologized  to  Grace,  mother,"  said  Ethel 
meekly. 

"We  assume,  Grace,"  said  Mrs.  Durland,  "that  you 
mean  to  hold  fast  to  the  ideals  we've  tried  to  teach 
you  at  home.  We  trust  you,  dear;  you  know  that. 
You  know  all  the  dangers  that  a  young  girl's  exposed 
to  and  I  believe  you  mean  to  make  something  fine  and 
beautiful  of  your  life.  I  expect  that  of  both  you  girls." 

"I  don't  like  being  pecked  at  and  quizzed,"  Grace 
replied.  "I'll  attend  to  the  bacon,  Ethel;  you  needn't 
bother  about  it." 

"I  hope  you  and  John  had  a  pleasant  evening,"  said 
Mrs.  Durland. 

"Yes;  it's  a  very  good  picture.  We  all  enjoyed  it. 
Irene  went  with  us." 

"Irene  Kirby  went  with  you  and  John  to  the  pic- 
ture show! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Durland.  "I  don't  believe 
you  said  Irene  was  going." 

"Grace  naturally  wouldn't  mention  it,"  said  Ethel, 
lifting  the  lid  of  the  coffee  pot  and  closing  it  with  a 
spiteful  snap. 

"Now,  dear,  let's  think  the  best  we  can  of  everyone," 
said  Mrs.  Durland.  She  had  with  difficulty  persuaded 
Ethel  to  apologize  to  Grace  for  questioning  her  about 
the  imaginary  Miss  Conwell  and  it  seemed  for  an  in- 
stant that  her  efforts  to  promote  harmony  were  to  fail, 
now  that  Grace  had  mentioned  Irene. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  233 

"Oh,  it  happened  by  accident!"  Grace  explained. 
"Irene  and  I  were  lunching  together  at  the  store 
and  John  strolled  in  looking  for  me.  And  he  was 
polite  enough  to  include  Irene  in  his  invitation." 

"I'd  hardly  expect  her  to  do  anything  as  tame  as 
going  to  a  picture  show,"  said  Ethel. 

"Well,  as  I've  said  before,  Irene  isn't  as  bad  as  you 
paint  her.  You  probably  wouldn't  think  she'd  waste 
time  on  John,  but  they  get  on  famously." 

"John  isn't  quite  what  I  thought  he  was,"  said 
Ethel,  ignoring  her  mother's  signal  for  silence. 

"That's  because  he  wouldn't  let  you  choose  a  church 
for  him,"  said  Grace,  gingerly  drawing  a  pan  of  corn 
muffins  from  the  oven.  "John  lives  his  religion,  which 
is  a  lot  better  than  parading  it  all  the  time." 

"Now,  Grace,  Ethel  didn't  mean  to  reflect  on  John," 
Mrs.  Durland  hastened  to  explain. 

"It  may  give  you  a  better  impression  of  John  to 
know  he's  been  very  kind  to  Roy,"  said  Grace. 

"How's  that,  Grace?"  asked  Mrs.  Durland  quickly. 
"I  didn't  get  a  chance  to  ask  John  about  Roy." 

"John  wouldn't  have  told  you  he'd  been  helping  Roy 
even  if  you'd  asked  him.  John  doesn't  advertise  his 
good  works.  But  I  had  a  letter  from  one  of  the  girls 
the  other  day  and  she  was  teasing  me  about  John. 
She  said  he  must  be  seriously  interested  in  me  for  he'd 
been  coaching  Roy  in  his  law  work.  I  call  it  perfectly 
splendid  of  John  when  he  has  so  much  to  do." 

"It's  certainly  kind  of  John,"  said  her  mother,  "I 
wish  you'd  told  me  so  I  could  have  thanked  him.  But 
I  didn't  suppose  Roy  needed  coaching.  He's  working 
very  hard;  he's  sent  just  scraps  of  letters  all  winter 
and  gives  as  his  excuse  that  he's  too  busy  to  write." 

"We've  all  got  to  begin  thinking  about  what  Roy 
will  do  after  he's  graduated,"  said  Ethel.  "I've  talked 


234  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

to  some  of  the  lawyers  who  come  into  our  office  and 
they  all  say  he'd  better  go  into  an  office  as  clerk  until 
he  gets  started.  A  young  man  can't  just  hang  out 
his  shingle  and  expect  business  to  come  to  him." 

"It's  too  bad  your  father  isn't  in  a  position  to  help 
Roy,"  sighed  Mrs.  Durland. 

"Why  not  let  Roy  make  some  suggestions  himself 
about  what  he  wants  to  do,"  said  Grace.  "He's  got  to 
learn  self-reliance  sometime.  John  Moore  hadn't  any- 
body to  boost  him  and  he's  already  found  a  place  in 
one  of  the  best  offices  in  town." 

"But  Roy's  case  is  very  different,"  replied  Mrs.  Dur- 
land, instantly  on  the  defensive.  "John's  older  for 
one  thing  and  the  hard  work  he's  done  to  get  his  edu- 
cation naturally  arouses  sympathy.  I  want  us  all  to 
make  Roy  feel  our  confidence  in  him.  I'm  getting  anx- 
ious to  have  him  home.  He's  going  to  be  a  great  com- 
fort to  me  and  it  will  be  fine  for  you  girls  to  have  your 
brother  back.  You  can  both  of  you  do  a  lot  for  him. 
And,  Grace,  he  can  help  you  solve  many  of  your  prob- 
lems,— socially  I  mean." 

"I  shall  want  Roy  to  know  all  my  friends,"  said 
Ethel.  "Since  I've  been  with  Gregg  and  Burley  I've 
made  a  good  many  acquaintances  among  men  who 
are  in  a  position  to  help  Roy." 

"Roy's  fine  social  side  is  bound  to  be  a  help  to 
him  in  his  profession,"  said  Mrs.  Durland.  "He's 
always  been  a  friendly  boy." 

"Yes,  mother,"  Grace  replied.  "Roy  certainly  has 
a  way  of  making  friends." 

She  refrained  from  saying  that  these  friends  were 
not  always  wisely  chosen.  She  dreaded  the  time  when 
he  would  finish  at  the  University  and  begin  his  efforts 
to  establish  a  law  practice.  A  good  many  young  men 
of  the  best  type  of  ambitious  student  had  confided  in 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  235 

her  as  to  their  plans  for  the  future  and  she  thought  she 
knew  pretty  well  the  qualities  essential  to  success. 
Roy  was  blessed  with  neither  initiative  nor  industry, 
s,nd  she  knew  as  her  mother  and  Ethel  did  not,  the 
happy-go-lucky  fashion  in  which  he  had  played 
through  his  college  course,  and  his  rebellion  against 
undertaking  the  law.  It  was  quite  like  him  to  lean 
upon  John  Moore.  He  must  be  doing  badly  or  John 
would  not  have  volunteered  to  aid  him. 

As  they  ate  breakfast,  with  Mr.  Durland  dividing 
attention  between  his  food  and  his  newspaper,  Mrs. 
Durland's  usual  attempt  to  create  an  atmosphere  of 
cheer  for  the  day  struck  Grace  as  pathetic  in  its  f utlity. 
Hearing  her  father's  voice  she  roused  herself  to  find 
that  her  mother  had  asked  him  to  look  in  the  market 
reports  for  the  quotations  on  turkeys.  Christmas  was 
approaching  and  Roy  would  be  home;  and  Mrs.  Dur- 
land was  speculating  as  to  whether  a  turkey  for  the 
Christmas  dinner  would  be  too  serious  a  strain  on  the 
family  budget.  Durland  shifted  uneasily  in  his  chair 
as  his  wife  recalled  that  they  had  never  been  without  a 
Christmas  turkey  since  they  were  married.  Grace 
noting  the  fleeting  pain  in  her  father's  patient  eyes, 
hastened  to  say  that  beyond  question  the  turkey  would 
be  forthcoming.  It  was  a  relief  to  be  out  of  the  house, 
walking  to  the  car  with  her  father  who  was  laden  as 
usual  with  his  notebooks  and  drawings. 


CHAPTER  NINE 
I 

"WHAT'S  the  difference,  lady? 

The  remark  she  had  heard  the  salesgirl  make  to  the 
critical  shopper  was  often  in  Grace's  mind.  What  did 
anything  really  matter!  But  the  aisles  at  Shipley's 
were  crowded  with  importunate  holiday  shoppers,  and 
she  was  able  to  forget  herself  in  her  work.  She  had 
been  complimented  by  the  superintendent  of  the  store; 
she  was  already  one  of  the  most  successful  saleswomen 
in  her  department.  She  had  earned  as  high  as  fifty 
dollars  a  week,  not  a  contemptible  sum,  even  if  to  earn 
it  she  had  become  Number  Eighteen  at  Shipley's ! 

Four  days  passed  and  still  no  word  from  Trenton. 
On  two  nights  Grace  cried  herself  to  sleep  in  a  con- 
fusion of  emotions — loneliness,  fear  that  some  evil  had 
befallen  him,  mortification  that  she  had  listened  to  his 
protestations  of  love,  and  hope  that  he  would  yet  ex- 
plain himself.  Her  repeated  efforts  to  shut  him  out  of 
her  mind  failed  miserably.  She  had  not  known  until 
his  communications  ceased  how  much  she  counted  on 
him,  or  how  completely  he  had  captivated  her  imag- 
ination. 

As  she  waited  for  a  customer  to  decide  upon  a  wrap 
her  gaze  fell  upon  a  young  woman  whom  she  recog- 
nized, after  a  bewildered  moment  of  uncertainty,  as 
Mrs.  Bob  Cummings. 

Briskly  summing  up  the  arguments  in  favor  of  the 
garment  her  customer  was  considering,  Grace  was  dis- 
agreeably conscious  that  Evelyn  appeared  to  be  wait- 
ing for  an  opportunity  to  speak  to  her.  Grace  an- 
swered perfunctorily  the  last  question  of  her  customer 
and  made  out  the  charge  slip.  As  she  concluded  the 

236 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  237 

transaction  and  bade  her  customer  good  morning 
Evelyn  crossed  the  room. 

"Please  pardon  me,  Miss  Durland!"  she  began,  half 
extending  and  then  withdrawing  her  hand. 

"Is  there  something  I  can  show  you?"  asked  Grace 
in  her  most  business-like  tone. 

"Not  a  thing,  Miss  Durland,"  said  Evelyn  and 
smiled  ingratiatingly.  "You  are  terribly  busy  I  know, 
but  there's  something  I  want  to  say  to  you;  it  will 
take  only  a  minute.  I'm  sorry  I  was  so  rude  the  other 
night;  may  I — apologize?" 

"That's  quite  unnecessary,"  said  Grace  coldly,  and 
was  instantly  vexed  that  she  had  thought  of  no  better 
response.  Evelyn,  embarrassed  for  a  moment,  smiled 
again.  She  was  much  prettier  than  Grace  had  thought 
her  at  McGovern's. 

"It  was  all  so  ridiculous!"  said  Evelyn,  now  per- 
fectly composed.  "Bob's  such  a  baby!  I  didn't  mind 
at  all  your  going  out  to  supper  with  him.  What  I 
did  mind  was  his  acting  like  an  idiot  when  I  walked 
in  on  you.  Jimmie  was  just  as  idiotic — the  idea  of  ex- 
plaining anything!  And  then  Bob  must  try  to  ex- 
plain! That  bored  me  just  as  it  bored  you.  Of 
course  I  wasn't  going  to  let  him  explain!  But  I'm 
sorry  I  lost  my  temper  and  spoke  to  you  as  I  did. 
Won't  you  forgive  me?" 

"If  there's  any  forgiving  to  be  done  let's  both  do 
it!"  said  Grace;  and  they  smiled  at  each  other. 

"Men  are  such  fools!"  exclaimed  Evelyn,  as  though 
greatly  relishing  the  statement.  "Nothing  ever  pleased 
me  more  than  the  way  you  made  Bob  take  you  home. 
And  then  he  came  back  to  McGovern's  and  com- 
plained— actually  complained  to  me! — that  you  had 
given  him  the  slip!  He  did  that — really  he  did!  Can 
you  imagine  it?" 


238  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

Her  mirth  over  the  affair  had  communicated  itself 
to  Grace.  It  hadn't  occurred  to  her  that  Bob  might 
have  returned  to  McGovern's  when  she  left  him. 

"Bob  is  so  obvious!"  Evelyn  continued.  "He's  just 
got  to  have  sympathy.  Really,  he  wanted  me  to  sym- 
pathize with  him  because  you  shook  him  in  the  road! 
Jimmy  and  I  teased  him  till  he  cried  for  mercy.  Bob's 
a  dear  boy  but  he  needs  just  the  jar  you  gave  him. 
You  were  perfect!  And  you  won't  think  the  worse 
of  me  will  you,  for  losing  my  temper?" 

"Certainly  not!"  said  Grace,  "I've  known  Bob  so 
long "  ' 

"Yes;  the  moment  Jimmy  spoke  your  name  I  knew 
all  about  you,  and  understood  everything.  He  wanted 
sympathy  and  being  a  sentimental  person  he  sought 
you  out  of  the  score  of  old  friendship.  Just  like  him! 
Selfish  is  no  name  for  him!  But  to  think  he  was  afraid 
of  me!  He  gave  himself  away  terribly!  He's  so  meek 
now  it's  positively  pathetic!" 

To  be  laughing  over  Bob's  frailities  with  Bob's  wife 
was  something  that  hadn't  figured  in  Grace's  calcula- 
tions. The  superintendent,  on  his  way  through  the 
department,  frowned  to  see  Number  Eighteen  neglect- 
ing her  duties  to  chat  with  a  caller,  but  recognizing 
Mrs.  Cummings  he  asked  deferentially  whether  she 
was  finding  what  she  wanted. 

"Miss  Durland  is  taking  excellent  care  of  me," 
Evelyn  replied.  "I'm  violating  all  the  rules,  I  sup- 
pose," she  said  when  the  man  had  passed  on.  "If  they 
scold  you  let  me  know  and  I'll  speak  to  Mr.  Shipley 
about  it.  Just  one  thing  more!  Bob  has  told  me 
about  your  father  and  the  way  Mr.  Cummings,  senior, 
treated  him.  It  wasn't  fair;  Bob  says  that.  I'd  like 
you  to  know  I'm  sorry " 

"It  was  all  in  the  way  of  business,"  said  Grace. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  239 

"I  have  no  feeling  about  it;  I'm  only  sorry  for  my 
father  and  mother.  It  was  a  blow  they  hadn't  ex- 
pected." 

"It  wasn't  nice/'  said  Evelyn  decisively.  "I  wish 
we  could  really  become  acquainted.  I'm  going  to  ask 
you  up  for  dinner  soon — please  don't  say  no!  There 
are  some  young  people  I'd  like  you  to  meet.  Good- 
bye and  thank  you  ever  so  much." 

II 

Grace  turned  to  a  waiting  customer  with  a  kindlier 
feeling  for  all  the  world.  She  was  uncertain  whether 
in  like  circumstances  she  would  have  been  capable  of 
the  kindness  and  generosity  Evelyn  had  manifested. 
It  pleased  her  to  believe  that  her  education  in  the  ways 
of  the  changing,  baffling  world  was  progressing. 

Evelyn  Cummings  was  evidently  a  young  woman 
without  illusions;  she  knew  exactly  how  to  manage  a 
temperamental  husband.  Marriage,  as  Grace  viewed 
it  with  the  three  different  illustrations  afforded  by 
Kemp,  Trenton  and  Cummings,  was  of  the  realm  of 
insubstantial  things.  Even  the  spectacle  offered  in  her 
own  home  by  her  father  and  mother,  between  whom 
disappointment  and  adversity  had  reared  a  wall  no 
less  grim  because  of  their  steadfast  loyalty,  was  hardly 
convincing  on  the  other  side  of  the  picture.  Stephen 
Durland  and  his  wife  were  held  together  by  habit,  by 
a  deeply  implanted  sense  of  duty  to  their  children. 
Grace  could  not  remember  when  her  father  had  kissed 
her  mother,  or  in  any  way  manifested  any  affection 
for  her.  And  yet  in  the  beginning  they  must  have 
loved  each  other.  She  wondered  whether  it  was  always 
like  that! 

She  had  given  up  all  hope  of  hearing  again  from 


240  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

Trenton  when  on  the  tenth  day  she  received  a  note 
postmarked  New  York,  that  set  her  heart  fluttering. 

My  Dear  Little  Girl: 

What  must  you  think  of  mel  I  think  pretty  poorly 
of  myself,  I  can  tell  you.  Picked  up  a  cold  on  my  way 
East.  Pretended  it  didn't  amount  to  anything; 
motored  down  into  New  Jersey  for  a  week-end  with 
some  old  friends.  Got  chilled  on  the  drive;  pneumonia 
almost.  My  host  was  afraid  I'd  die  on  his  hands  and 
made  a  frightful  row — couple  of  doctors,  nurse  and 
all  the  other  frills.  ...  I  had  no  way  of  letting 
you  know.  Found  your  letter  when  I  came  into  town 
this  morning.  I'm  away  behind  on  my  jobs.  .  .  . 
The  great  thing  is  that  I  want  to  see  you  and  look 
into  those  dear,  dark  eyes  again.  .  .  .  One  day 
at  twilight  down  there  in  the  country,  I  thought  of 
you  so  intently  that  I  really  brought  you  into  the 
room!  The  nurse  was  sitting  beside  the  bed,  then 
suddenly  you  were  there,  your  dark  head  clearly  out- 
lined in  the  dusk.  You  lifted  your  hand  to  touch  your 
hair — that's  a  pretty  trick  you  have!  You  have  so 
many  dear  ways — and  you  smiled — another  sweet  way 
you  have! — the  smile  coming  slowly,  like  a  dawn,  un- 
til it  brightened  all  the  world.  The  illusion  was  so 
perfect  that  it  wasn't  an  illusion  at  all,  but  really  you! 
I  was  terribly  indignant  at  the  nurse  when  she  turned 
on  the  light  and  I  lost  you.  .  .  .  The  doctor  says 
I  may  travel  in  three  or  four  days  and  my  thoughts 
carry  me  in  only  one  direction.  You  haven't  sent  me 
the  telegram  I  hoped  for;  never  mind  about  that. 
Please  wire  me  that  you  are  well.  And  if  you  put  in 
a  word  to  say  that  you  want  to  see  me  I  shall  be  the 
happiest  man  alive.  Be  assured  of  my  love  always. 

He  hadn't  forgotten  her;  he  really  cared!  She 
moved  with  a  quicker  step;  her  work  had  never  gone 
so  smoothly.  While  she  had  been  doubting  him,  try- 
ing to  put  him  out  of  her  heart  he  had  been  ill.  She 
was  unsparing  in  self-accusation  for  what  now  seemed 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  241 

the  basest  disloyalty.  She  tried  to  picture  the  room 
to  which  his  longing  had  summoned  her.  Those  lines 
in  his  letter  moved  her  deeply  and  set  her  to  speculat- 
ing whether  such  a  thing  might  not  be  possible  in  the 
case  of  two  beings  who  loved  each  other  greatly. 

There  was  no  intimation  in  the  letter  that  his  wife 
had  been  with  him  in  his  illness.  Grace  grew  bitter 
as  she  thought  of  Mrs.  Trenton,  who  was  probably 
roaming  the  world  preaching  a  new  social  order 
to  the  neglect  of  her  husband.  In  countenancing 
Trenton  as  a  lover  Grace  found  Mrs.  Trenton's  con- 
duct her  most  consoling  justification.  It  came  down 
to  this,  that  if  Ward  Trenton's  wife  failed  in  her 
marital  obligations  there  was  no  justice  in  forbidding 
him  to  seek  happiness  elsewhere. 

This  view  was  in  fact  advanced  in  Mary  Graham 
Trenton's  "Clues  to  a  New  Social  Order."  It  seemed 
a  fair  assumption  that  Mrs.  Trenton  wouldn't  ad- 
vocate ideas  for  all  mankind  that  she  wouldn't  tolerate 
in  her  own  husband. 

At  her  lunch  hour  Grace  went  to  the  telegraph  office 
and  sent  this  message: 

"Greatly  troubled  by  your  illness.  Please  take  good 
care  of  yourself.  You  may  be  sure  I  shall  be  glad  to 
see  you." 

"Straight  telegram,  paid,"  the  clerk  repeated  per- 
functorily, and  swept  the  message  under  the  counter. 
The  sending  of  the  telegram  gave  Grace  a  gratifying 
sense  of  kinship  with  the  larger  world  which  Trenton's 
love  had  revealed  to  her.  She  found  happiness  all  the 
afternoon  in  wondering  just  what  he  would  be  doing 
and  how  he  would  look  when  the  message  reached 
him.  She  wrote  that  night  the  longest  letter  she  had 
yet  written  him.  She  thought  often  of  what  Irene 
had  said  about  wanting  to  be  loved.  To  be  loved,  in 


242  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

the  great  way  that  Miss  Reynolds  had  said  was  the 
only  way  that  counted, — this  had  become  the  great 
desire  of  her  heart.  Old  restraints  and  inherited  moral 
inhibitions  still  resisted  her  impulse  to  fashion  her 
life  and  give  herself  as  she  pleased.  She  meant  to  be 
very  sure  of  Trenton  and  even  more  sure  of  her  own 
heart  before  committing  herself  further.  She  was  not, 
she  kept  assuring  herself,  an  ordinary  or  common  type. 
She  dropped  into  her  letter  several  literary  allusions 
and  a  few  French  phrases  with  a  school  girl's  pride 
in  her  erudition.  There  were  times  when  Grace  was 
very  young! 

Trenton's  next  letter  reported  his  complete  recovery. 
He  was  working  hard  to  make  up  for  lost  time,  but 
would  leave  for  the  West  as  soon  as  possible  and  hoped 
to  spend  Christmas  in  Indianapolis.  Incidentally  he 
had  business  there  in  which  she  might  be  able  to  assist 
him.  This  was  further  explained  in  a  typewritten  en- 
closure which  he  asked  her  to  deliver  to  her  father. 
He  warned  her  that  the  inquiry  might  lead  to  nothing, 
but  there  were  certain  patents  held  in  Stephen  Dur- 
land's  name  which  he  wished  to  investigate. 

"The  name  Durland,"  he  wrote,  "gave  me  a  dis- 
tinctly pleasant  shock  when  the  memorandum  turned 
up  on  my  desk  in  the  routine  of  the  office.  There  may 
be  a  place  where  I  can  use  some  of  your  father's 
ideas;  but  in  this  business  we're  all  pessimists.  I  ap- 
point you  my  agent  and  representative  on  the  spot. 
Don't  let  your  father  dispose  of  any  of  the  patents 
described  in  my  letter  till  we  can  have  an  interview." 

She  made  the  noon  hour  the  occasion  for  one  of 
her  picnic  lunches  with  her  father  in  his  work  shop. 

He  looked  up  from  a  model  he  was  tinkering  and 
greeted  her  with  his  usual,  "That  you,  Grace?" 

"Very  much   Grace!"   she  answered,   tossing  her 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  243 

packages  on  the  bench.  "What  are  you  on  today — 
perpetual  motion  or  a  scheme  for  harnessing  the  sun?" 

"A  fool  thing  a  man  left  here  the  other  day;  wanted 
me  to  tell  him  why  it  didn't  work.  It  doesn't  work 
because  there's  no  sense  in  it.". 

As  he  began  to  explain  why  the  device  was  im- 
practicable she  snatched  off  his  hat  and  flinging  it 
aside  with  a  dramatic  flourish  handed  him  a  sand- 
wich. 

"Don't  waste  your  time  on  such  foolishness;  we're 
only  interested  in  machines  that  work!" 

She  sprang  upon  the  bench  and  produced  Trenton's 
letter. 

"Let  your  eye  roam  over  that,  old  topi  And  don't 
tell  me  you've  let  somebody  take  those  things  away 
from  you." 

Durland  pondered  the  letter,  lifting  the  business 
sheet  closer  to  his  eyes  as  he  examined  Trenton's 
small  neat  signature.  He  walked  to  a  closet  and  ex- 
tracted some  papers  from  the  confused  mass  within. 

"Well,  daddy,  what's  the  answer?" 

"I  got  those  patents  all  right;  they  cover  my  im- 
provements on  my  old  gas  engine  Cummings  is  mak- 
ing. There's  already  been  a  fellow  nosing  round  ask- 
ing about  'em;  from  Cummings  I  guess.  I  got  some- 
thing now  that's  going  to  interest  everybody  that's 
making  motors;  something  I  been  working  at  two  or 
three  years.  Cummings  can't  have  'em.  He  hasn't 
got  any  right  to  'em! " 

His  eyes  flashed  as  his  hatred  of  Cummings  for  the 
moment  possessed  him.  Grace  had  never  taken 
seriously  her  father's  hints  that  Cummings  might  have 
got  rid  of  him  too  soon.  She  had  never  before  seen 
him  so  agitated.  He  paced  the  floor,  reiterating  that 
his  former  associate  should  never  profit  by  his  im- 


244  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

provements  on  any  of  the  old  Cummings-Durland  de- 
vices. He  paused,  picked  up  an  apple  and  bit  into  it 
savagely. 

"Now,  daddy,"  said  Grace,  "it  isn't  at  all  like  you 
to  flare  up  that  way.  Mr.  Trenton  hasn't  a  thing  to 
do  with  Cummings;  I  happen  to  know  that.  But  he's 
a  business  adviser  and  particular  friend  of  Kemp." 

"Kemp!"  Durland  repeated,  lifting  his  head  with  a 
jerk.  "You  think  maybe  Kemp's  interested?  Kemp 
could  use  these  patents;  there  isn't  a  thing  in  these 
improvements  that  wouldn't  fit  right  into  Kemp's 
motor!" 

"That's  perfectly  grand!  Now  that  you've  got  your 
patents,  what  you  want  to  do  is  to  sit  back  and  wait. 
There  must  be  something  pretty  good  in  your  ideas  or 
Mr.  Trenton  wouldn't  be  interested.  Wouldn't  it  be 
wonderful  if  the  dollars  would  begin  to  roll  in?" 

"I've  been  fooled  a  lot  of  times,  Grace,"  he  an- 
swered, picking  up  his  hat,  staring  at  it  as  though  it 
were  an  unfamiliar  thing  and  clapping  it  on  his  head. 
"I  guess  you  better  not  say  anything  about  this  at 
home.  If  it  doesn't  come  to  anything  I  don't  want 
your  mother  disappointed." 

"Of  course  not;  it's  our  big  secret,  daddy.  I  just 
love  having  secrets  with  you.  After  the  row  at  home 
the  other  night  about  Mr.  Trenton's  niece  we'd  better 
never  mention  him." 

"What  was  that  all  about,  Grace?"  he  asked  frown- 
ing. "I  didn't  get  what  Ethel  was  drivin'  at." 

"Just  making  herself  disagreeable,  that's  all.  I 
told  a  fib,  but  Ethel  had  no  business  to  attack  me 
that  way  before  guests." 

"Ethel's  kind  o'  different  somehow,"  he  said,  draw- 
ing the  back  of  his  hand  across  his  mouth.  "I  guess 
she  means  all  right.  Funny,  you  children  ain't  any 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  245 

of  you  alike,"  he  went  on  ruminatively.  "I  don't 
ever  seem  to  get  much  out  o'  Ethel  and  Roy." 

"Roy  and  Ethel  are  both  fond  of  you,  daddy.  And 
you  know  I  adore  you;  I'm  simply  crazy  about  you!" 

She  pounced  upon  him  and  threw  her  arms  about 
his  neck,  laughing  at  his  struggles  to  avoid  the  kisses 
she  distributed  over  such  parts  of  his  face  as  were 
free  of  grime. 

"You're  a  mighty  fine  girl,  Grace.  There  mustn't 
anything  happen  to  you,"  he  said,  freeing  himself. 

"Oh,  you  needn't  be  afraid,  you  dear  angel !  Noth- 
ing's going  to  happen  to  me!  Here's  where  I  skip — 
vamoose — disappear!  I'm  going  to  take  you  to  a  show 
tonight — yes,  I  am!  You  be  awfully  surprised  when 
I  spring  it  at  supper." 

Ill 

Trenton  wrote  again  that  he  would  reach  town  at 
noon  of  Christmas  day  and  expected  to  remain  a 
week. 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  Ward's  been  sick?"  asked 
Irene  when  Grace  told  her  that  he  was  coming. 
"You're  certainly  the  secretive  little  one." 

"How  did  you  know  it?"  Grace  demanded.  "You 
and  Tommy  made  up?" 

The  girls  were  putting  up  stock  at  the  end  of  the 
day  and  quiet  reigned  over  the  department,  broken 
only  by  the  voices  of  gossiping  employees. 

"I've  been  dying  to  tell  you  something  all  day," 
said  Irene  holding  up  her  hand  on  which  the  emerald 
had  been  restored  to  it's  old  place.  "Yes;  Tommy  told 
me  about  Ward." 

"Well " 

"Oh,  I've  just  taken  him  back  on  trial,"  said  Irene 


246  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

with  a  sigh.  "Poor  Tommy!  Minnie  got  me  up  to  her 
apartment  last  night  for  supper  and  who  should  walk 
in  but  Tommy!  He  swore  that  girl  in  Chi  didn't 
mean  anything  in  his  life.  He  saw  her  just  once  when 
he  had  dinner  with  her  and  some  other  people;  he  was 
careful  to  mention  the  other  people!  I  believed  him 
even  if  he  had  denied  the  whole  business  on  the  tele- 
phone. Tommy  looks  terribly  pathetic.  He's  going  to 
die  if  he  doesn't  check  up.  His  wife's  gone  to  Cali- 
fornia for  the  winter,  and  he's  drowning  his  sorrow  in 
too  much  booze.  Another  victim  of  prohibition! 
^Tommy's  one  of  the  million  who  didn't  know  he  had 
ito  have  it  till  they  took  it  away  from  him!" 

"Well,  I'm  glad  you've  fixed  it  up.  It's  much  nicer 
to  be  friends  with  him." 

"Just  a  friend,  that's  all,"  replied  Irene,  slowly 
shaking  her  head.  "The  poor  boy  really  needs  some- 
body to  keep  him  straight.  From  what  he  said  his 
wife  went  away  in  disgust.  Why  don't  these  women 
stay  at  home  and  look  after  their  husbands  and  not 
leave  the  job  to  us  poor  working  girls!" 

"Irene,  you're  a  perfect  scream!  Don't  make  me 
laugh  like  that  or  we'll  never  get  this  stuff  put  away." 

"It's  not  a  laughing  matter,"  said  Irene,  maintain- 
ing her  tone  of  lofty  indignation.  "I  can  tell  you  right 
now  that  a  woman  who  parks  her  husband's  taking 
an  awful  chance." 

Before  they  separated  Irene  warned  Grace  that 
Kemp  had  it  in  mind  to  drive  them  with  Trenton  to 
The  Shack  Christmas  afternoon. 

"He  wanted  us  to  have  dinner  out  there  but  I  told 
him  nothing  doing.  I'd  promised  to  play  with  my 
family  and  besides  I  can't  let  him  think  I'm  forgiving 
him  too  easy." 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  247 

IV 

On  Christmas  morning  as  Grace  was  helping  in  the 
kitchen  John  Moore  called  her  on  the  telephone.  He 
had  moved  to  town  the  day  before  and  thought  it 
would  be  fine  if  they  could  ride  to  the  end  of  one  of  the 
trolley  lines  that  afternoon  and  take  a  tramp.  Grace 
excused  herself  with  the  plea  that  she  already  had  an 
engagement  to  go  to  a  matinee. 

She  sang  about  her  work,  watching  the  clock  to 
mark  the  approach  of  the  hour  of  Trenton's  arrival. 
His  coming  would  bring  a  crisis  in  her  life.  The  ex- 
change of  gifts  in  the  household,  the  cheer  all  the 
members  of  the  family  were  trying  to  bring  to  the  day 
and  the  train  of  associations  the  festival  inevitably 
awakened  touched  her;  but  not  as  in  other  years. 
There  was  a  difference  now.  She  stood  free,  self- 
assured,  confidently  seeing  in  life  a  great  adventure. 

As  quickly  as  possible  after  dinner  she  flew  to  her 
room  to  dress,  and  at  half  past  two  reached  Minnie 
Lawton's,  where  she  found  Irene  waiting. 

"Tommy  took  Ward  to  The  Shack  from  the  train. 
They  had  dinner  out  there.  Tommy's  car's  waiting, 
so  we'll  prance  right  along." 

Grace  was  disappointed  at  not  seeing  Trenton  at 
Minnie's  and  on  the  drive  to  The  Shack  talked  little. 

"You  either  don't  want  to  see  him  at  all,  or  you're 
consumed  with  anxiety,"  commented  Irene. 

Kemp  had  given  her  a  thousand  dollar  bond  for  a 
Christmas  present.  Her  acceptance  of  the  gift  she 
mentioned  without  apology.  She  was  going  to  save 
her  money,  she  said  in  her  spacious  manner;  a  girl 
who  didn't  put  away  something  for  a  rainy  day  was 
a  fool. 

The   car   was   stopped   suddenly   just   inside   the 


248  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

entrance  to  Kemp's  farm  and  Trenton  smilingly 
opened  the  door. 

"Merry  Christmas!  Tommy  refused  to  leave  the 
fire! — the  poor  old  salamander!  But  being  of  tougher 
fibre,  here  I  am  to  meet  you!" 

His  unexpected  appearance  had  found  Grace  un- 
prepared and  she  was  grateful  for  the  moment  his 
banter  with  Irene  gave  her  to  adjust  herself.  He  stood 
with  head  bared,  the  wind  ruffling  his  hair.  The 
astrakan  collar  of  his  overcoat,  turned  up  about  his 
neck,  set  off  effectively  his  handsome  head  and  high- 
bred face.  He  was  indubitably  handsome,  a  man  to 
be  noticed  in  a  crowd.  Grace  felt  a  new  pride  in  the 
knowledge  that  he  loved  her.  She  laughed  at  some 
mocking  reply  he  gave  Irene  and  found  his  gaze  upon 
her,  the  grave  eyes  all  tenderness. 

"For  heaven's  sake,  get  in,  Ward!"  exclaimed  Irene. 
"You'll  catch  your  death  standing  there." 

"I'm  going  to  live  forever !  Grace,  are  you  shod  for 
a  walk?  Then  we'll  let  Irene  drive  on!" 

He  led  the  way  to  a  point  where  the  driveway 
skirted  a  woods-pasture,  and  opened  a  gate.  The 
sense  of  strangeness  at  being  with  him  again  passed 
quickly  as  he  began  answering  her  questions  about  his 
illness.  He  declared  that  he  was  too  well-seasoned 
to  be  killed  by  a  cold.  And  besides  he  had  found 
that  he  had  something  to  live  for,  and  that  made  a 
difference.  A  year  before  he  would  have  relinquished 
his  life  without  regret;  now  through  her  he  had  found 
the  hope  and  the  promise  of  life. 

"I  couldn't  bear  the  idea  of  going  indoors  until  I'd 
had  you  all  to  myself  a  little  while." 

The  trees  rose  tall  and  black  against  the  bluest  of 
winter  skies.  A  southwest  wind  whined  fitfully 
among  the  boughs  overhead.  Grace  felt  the  power  of 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  249 

elemental  forces  in  her  blood.  She  was  a  free  spirit 
in  a  world  where  the  children  of  men  were  created  of 
all  time  to  be  free.  Through  what  Trenton  was  say- 
ing and  her  replies  this  thought  was  dominant.  It 
lifted  her  to  a  mood  of  exaltation;  it  seemed  that  she 
could  touch  the  heavens  with  her  finger  tips.  A 
branch  of  brier  caught  her  skirt  and  Trenton  was 
quickly  on  his  knees  to  free  it.  He  looked  up  into 
her  face  before  he  rose  and  she  touched  his  cheek  with 
her  hand, — lightly  and  caressingly. 

"I  make  you  my  true  knight,"  she  said.  "Arise, 
Sir  Ward!" 

He  rose  and  took  her  in  his  arms. 

"Oh,  my  dearest!  This  is  worth  waiting  for;  this  is 
worth  living  for!" 

"You  are  so  dear,"  she  whispered;  "you  are  so  won- 
derful!" 

"Have  you  missed  me;  have  you  really  thought  of 
me?"  he  asked.  "Do  I  really  mean  something  to 
you?" 

"Not  something,  but  everything!" 

There  was  a  sob  in  her  throat.  She  clung  to  him, 
laying  her  cheek  to  his  face,  calling  him  by  endearing 
names  that  were  new  to  her  lips.  "Sometimes  I 
doubted  you,  dear.  When  I  didn't  hear  from  you  I 
thought  you'd  forgotten;  and  it  hurt  me  so!" 

"I  understand  how  that  would  be,"  he  said  ten- 
derly. "I'd  have  let  you  know  if  there'd  been  any 
way.  I  was  afraid  to  ask  my  friends  to  telegraph;  it 
would  have  involved  explanations." 

"I  only  want  your  forgiveness.  I'll  never  doubt 
you  again,  dear!" 

"We  must  have  faith  in  each  other;  we  must  trust 
each  other,"  he  said.  "You  know  I'd  trust  you  round 
the  world." 


250  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

She  clasped  her  arms  about  his  neck  and  held  him 
in  a  long  kiss  to  seal  his  faith  in  her.  As  they  went 
on  she  told  him  about  Bob  Cummings  and  the  visit 
to  McGovern's. 

"It  was  to  give  myself  a  chance  to  forget  you.  I 
wanted  to  see  if  I  could  forget  you.  All  that  day  I 
had  thought  of  you  so  steadily  that  I  was  unhappy. 
I  hated  the  thought  of  going  home  and  sitting  in  my 
room  and  thinking  of  you.  Can  you  understand  how 
that  would  be?" 

As  she  began  the  story  in  a  tone  that  was  half  self- 
accusation,  half  apology,  he  teasingly  pretended  to 
make  something  tragic  of  it,  but  when  he  saw  that  it 
was  a  matter  of  conscience  with  her  to  confess  he  has- 
tened to  make  it  easy  for  her.  Assured  that  he  saw 
in  the  episode  no  disloyalty  she  gave  every  humorous 
twist  to  the  incident.  He  laughed  till  the  woods  rang 
when  she  described  the  manner  in  which  she  had 
slipped  away  from  Cummings  and  taken  the  trolley 
home. 

"I'm  warned  now,"  he  said,  "but  don't  you  ever 
try  running  away  from  me!" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know!"  she  cried.  "I  dare  you  to 
catch  me!"  She  vaulted  the  fence  into  a  corn  field 
and  alertly  dodged  him  as  he  pursued  her  over  the 
stubble  and  among  the  shocks.  She  was  fleet  of  foot 
and  easily  outdistanced  him.  She  ended  the  long 
chase  by  hiding  behind  a  shock  and  then  as  he 
blundered  about  seeking  her,  she  sprang  out  and  flung 
her  arms  about  him. 

"It's  time  to  go  to  the  house,"  he  said,  glancing  at 
the  lowering  sun.  "Tommy  threatened  to  have  tea. 
We'll  take  another  way  back;  it's  longer!" 

"Isn't  it  too  bad  that  things  must  end?  I  wish  to- 
day could  last  forever!" 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  251 

"Let's  think  of  it  only  as  the  beginning!  Today  I 
refuse  to  think  of  anything  disagreeable.  I  only  ask 
to  be  sure  you  belong  to  me." 

"Oh,  dear  and  splendid  one,  you  don't  question  it!" 
A  smile  played  about  her  lips  and  her  dark  eyes  were 
afire.  "I  love  you!"  she  whispered.  "I  love  you!  I 
love  you!" 

The  path  they  were  following  paralleled  the  highway 
at  this  point  and  as  they  clung  to  each  other  a 
man  passed  in  the  road,  walking  rapidly  toward  town. 
He  could  hardly  have  failed  to  see  their  embrace. 

It  was  John  Moore,  taking  alone  the  tramp  he  had 
asked  Grace  to  share  with  him.  He  paused  and 
stared,  lifted  his  hat  and  hurried  on. 


CHAPTER  TEN 


GRACE  and  Trenton  had  sprung  apart  as  Moore 
passed  in  the  highway  and  they  waited  in  silence  un- 
til the  sound  of  his  even  step  over  the  hard  macadam 
died  away.  The  romp  through  the  corn  field  had 
lossened  her  hair  and  she  began  thrusting  it  back 
under  her  hat.  Trenton,  straightening  his  tie,  looked 
the  least  bit  crestfallen. 

"Who  was  that?"  he  asked. 

"John  Moore,  an  awfully  nice  fellow  I  knew  in 
college.  He's  just  moving  to  Indianapolis  to  go  into 
the  law." 

"There's  no  question  but  he  saw  us.  It's  so  easy  to 
forget  there  are  other  people  in  the  world  1  I  hope  his 
seeing  us  won't  embarrass  you." 

"Oh,  John's  all  right,"  she  replied.  "The  only  em- 
barrassment is  that  I  fibbed  to  him  about  this  after- 
noon. He  asked  me  to  go  walking, — we  did  a  lot  of 
tramping  at  college — and  I  told  him  I  was  going  to  a 
matinee." 

"Well,  you  were!"  laughed  Trenton;  then  with  an 
attempt  at  carelessness,  "Is  he  a  suitor?" 

"Heavens,  no!  But  I  admire  John  as  every  one 
does  who  knows  him.  He's  a  mighty  good  friend,  and 
the  kindest  soul  in  the  world." 

As  they  resumed  their  walk  toward  The  Shack  she 
continued  talking  of  John,  Trenton  manifesting  a 
sympathetic  interest  and  asking  questions  to  elicit 
further  anecdotes  of  Moore's  varied  activities  at  the 
University. 

252 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  253 

"He  may  be  in  love  with  you,"  he  suggested.  "You 
see  I  can't  help  being  just  a  little  jealous  of  every 
man  you  knew  before  you  knew  me." 

"If  John's  in  love  with  me  he's  very  successful  in 
concealing  it!"  she  laughed.  "No;  strange  as  it  may 
seem,  he  likes  to  talk  to  me  and  I'm  proud  of  his 
friendship.  He  does  a  lot  of  reading  and  thinking. 
He's  a  fine  character  and  you'd  be  sure  to  like  him. 
He's  leaving  the  law  school  to  go  into  Judge  Sander's 
office;  the  Judge  has  picked  him  for  a  winner." 

"I  know  Sanders;  he's  Tommy's  lawyer.  I  see 
I'll  have  to  keep  an  eye  on  Moore,"  he  went  on  teas- 
ingly.  "I'm  not  sure  he  isn't  likely  to  become  a  dan- 
gerous rival!" 

"I  wish  I  were  sure  you  could  be  jealous!  Maybe 
I'm  jealous  too!  Hasn't  that  ever  occurred  to  you?" 

She  was  a  little  frightened  at  her  temerity  in  asking 
a  question  that  was  the  crystalization  of  her  con- 
stant speculation  as  to  his  attitude  toward  his  wife. 
There  flashed  through  her  mind  everything  he  had 
said  of  Mrs.  Trenton,  which,  to  be  sure,  was  very 
little  though  the  little  required  clarifying.  She  recalled 
the  apology  in  his  St.  Louis  letter  for  having  spoken  of 
Mrs.  Trenton  at  all.  In  that  first  talk  at  The  Shack 
he  had  led  her  to  believe  that  his  wife  gave  him  wide 
liberty  to  do  as  he  pleased ;  but  it  was  conceivable  that 
a  woman  might  indulge  her  husband's  acquaintance 
with  women  she  did  not  know  and  was  not  likely  to 
meet  without  sanctioning  infidelity.  Grace  had  per- 
suaded herself  that  there  was  a  distinct  difference  be- 
tween entering  into  a  liason  with  a  man  who  still  main- 
tained martial  relations  with  his  wife  and  one  who  did 
not.  She  was  vastly  pleased  with  the  moral  perception 
that  showed  her  this.  And  she  was  confident  that  she 
had  the  will  to  dismiss  him  if  his  explanation  of  the 


254  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

modus  vivendi  that  existed  between  him  and  his  wife 
should  prove  to  be  unsatisfactory. 

The  cowpath  they  were  traversing  made  it  neces- 
sary for  them  to  walk  singly  and  he  went  ahead,  hold- 
ing back  the  boughs  that  hung  over  the  trail.  For  a 
few  minutes  she  thought  he  meant  to  ignore  her  ques- 
tion but  suddenly  he  stopped  and  swung  round. 

"I  know  what  you're  thinking  of,"  he  said  quietly. 
"You're  thinking  of  Mrs.  Trenton." 

He  pulled  a  twig  from  a  young  maple  and  broke  it 
into  tiny  bits.  Grace  wondered  whether  this  trifling 
unconscious  act  might  not  symbolize  the  casting  aside 
of  such  slight  ties  as  bound  him  to  his  wife. 

"Yes,  I've  thought  of  her  a  great  deal.  You  couldn't 
blame  me  for  that." 

"No;  that's  wholly  natural,"  he  said  quickly.  "You 
wouldn't  be  the  woman  I  know  you  to  be  if  you  didn't. 
You  have  a  right  to  know  just  what  my  relations  are 
with  my  wife.  I'll  be  frank  about  it.  I  loved  her 
when  I  married  her  and  I  believe  she  loved  me." 

There  was  an  appeal  for  sympathy  in  his  eyes,  a 
helplessness  in  his  tone  that  was  new  to  her  knowledge 
of  him.  It  was  as  though  the  thought  of  Mrs.  Trenton 
brought  a  crushing  depression  upon  him.  Jealousy 
yielded  to  pity  in  her  heart;  she  was  touched  with 
something  akin  to  maternal  solicitude  for  his  happi- 
ness. But  she  wished  to  know  more;  the  time  had 
come  for  an  understanding  of  his  attitude  toward  his 
wife  and  of  Mrs.  Trenton's  toward  him. 

"Does  love  really  die?"  she  asked  almost  in  a 
whisper.  "If  you  two  loved  each  other  once  how  can 
you  tell  whether  the  love  is  dead  or  not?" 

"It's  the  saddest  thing  in  the  world,"  he  said,  smil- 
ing in  his  tolerance  of  her  ignorance,  "that  love  can 
and  does  die.  Mrs.  Trenton  and  I  meet  rarely  now;] 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  255 

but  our  estrangement  came  about  gradually.  I  admit 
that  the  fault  has  been  more  than  half  mine.  In  every 
such  case  there's  always  fault  on  both  sides.  When 
I  saw  that  her  interests  were  carrying  her  away  from 
me,  and  particularly  after  she  began  to  be  a  public 
character  through  her  writing  and  lecturing,  I  might 
have  asserted  myself  a  little  more  strongly — let  her 
know  that  I  wanted  her  and  needed  her  even  if  the 
first  passion  was  gone.  But — you  may  laugh  at  this — 
I  had  old-fashioned  ideas  that  didn't  square  with  her 
new  notions  of  things.  I  wanted  children  and  a  home 
of  the  traditional  kind.  Possibly  it  was  in  my  mind," 
he  smiled  wanly,  "that  I  expected  my  wife  to  bring  my 
slippers  and  mother  me  when  I  was  tired.  All  men  are 
babies,  you  know;  but  all  women  don't  understand 
that.  Probably  there's  where  the  trouble  began.  And 
I  found  myself  more  and  more  alone  as  Mrs.  Trenton 
got  deeper  into  her  reform  work.  She  likes  the  excite- 
ment of  moving  about  and  stirring  people  up.  I  think 
she  even  enjoys  being  criticized  by  the  newspapers. 
I'm  a  peaceful  person  myself  and  can't  quite  under- 
stand that.  We  still  keep  a  house  in  Pittsburgh  but  I 
haven't  seen  Mrs.  Trenton  there  for  a  long  time.  I 
doubt  whether  she  any  longer  considers  it  her  domicile. 
When  we've  met  it's  been  by  accident  or  where  I've 
made  the  opportunity  by  going  to  some  place  where 
she  was  lecturing.  The  breach  has  widened  until 
we're  hardly  more  than  acquaintances.  She's  said 
that  if  I  ever  found  a  woman  I  thought  I'd  be  happy 
with  to  be  frank  about  it.  It  may  be  in  her  mind  to 
free  me  if  I  ask  it.  I  don't  know.  And  that's  the 
situation." 

"You  don't — you're  sure  you  don't — love  her  any 
more?"  Grace  asked,  uttering  the  words  slowly. 

"No";  he  answered  meeting  her  direct  gaze  with  a 


256  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

candor  that  was  a  part  of  his  charm  for  her.  "That's 
all  over.  It  was  over  before  I  met  you  But  I  sup- 
pose, after  a  fashion,  I'm  still  fond  of  her;  she  was 
always  interesting  and  amusing.  Even  as  a  girl  she'd 
been  a  great  hand  to  take  up  with  new  ideas.  When 
the  suffrage  movement  developed  she  found  she  could 
write  and  speak  and  I  saw  less  of  her  to  a  point  where 
we  began  an  existence  quite  independent  of  each 
other.  I  want  you  to  be  satisfied  about  this;  if  there's 
anything  you  want  to  know " 

"No;  I  believe  you  and  I  think  I  understand.  And 
I'm  sorry — very  sorry  for  your  unhappy  times.  I 
wish " 

"Yes,  dear " 

"Oh,  you're  so  fine;  so  kind,  so  deserving  of  hap- 
piness! I  want  so  much  to  help  you  find  it.  I  want 
to  be  of  real  use  to  you.  You  deserve  so  much  of 
life." 

"But — do  I  deserve  you!"  he  asked  softly. 

She  answered  with  a  look  all  eloquent  of  her  love, 
and  kissed  him. 

When  they  reached  the  house  they  found  Irene  and 
Kemp  in  the  living  room  engaged  in  a  heated  argu- 
ment over  Irene's  preemption  of  a  bottle  of  whiskey 
which  she  had  seized  to  prevent  his  further  consump- 
tion of  the  contents. 

"Take  it,  Ward!"  Irene  cried,  flinging  off  Kemp's 
hold  upon  her  arm  and  handing  the  bottle  to  Trenton. 
"Tommy's  had  too  much.  I'm  going  to  take  him 
home." 

"Gimme  tha*  bottle;  gotta  have  another  drink," 
blurted  Kemp,  lunging  toward  Trenton. 

"Not  another  drop!"  said  Trenton,  passing  the  bot- 
tle to  Grace,  who  ran  with  it  to  the  dining  room  and 
told  Jerry  to  hide  it.  Kemp,  caught  in  Trenton's 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  257 

arms,  drew  back  and  stared,  grinning  stupidly  in  his 
befuddlement  at  the  legerdemain  by  which  the  bottle 
had  eluded  him. 

"Tommy's  a  naughty  boy,"  said  Irene.  "He's  nasty 
when  he's  drunk.  Hands  off ! "  she  cried  as  Kemp  again 
menaced  her.  "Don't  you  dare  touch  me!" 

"Not  goin'  home.  Never  goin'  home.  Coin'  to 
shtay  right  here,"  declared  Kemp,  tottering  as  he  at- 
tempted to  assume  an  attitude  of  defiance. 

The  Japanese  boy  had  brought  in  the  tea  tray  and 
was  lighting  the  kettle-lamp. 

"Everythin's  goin'  fine,"  Kemp  continued,  indicat- 
ing the  tray  with  a  flourish.  "Have  nice  chat  over 
teacups — hiccups — tea-cups — joke,  ha,  ha!  Guests 
drink  tea;  host  drink  whisk — key — thass  thirty  year 
ole,  Ward.  Can't  change  drinks;  always  makes  me 
sick  change  drinks.  Where's  tha'  bottle?" 

"You've  spoiled  everything  by  getting  drunk,"  said 
Irene  viciously.  "You're  going  home.  You  know 
what  you  told  me  the  other  night  at  Minnie's.  Your 
doctor's  warned  you  to  cut  out  the  booze  or  you'll  die. 
Your  heart  won't  stand  it." 

Kemp  turned  toward  her  slowly,  opening  and  clos- 
ing his  eyes  in  the  effort  to  comprehend  this  statement. 
He  was  very  white;  Trenton  was  watching  him  with 
deep  concern. 

"Nothin'  the  matter  with  me.  Jus'  foolin'  'bout 
doctor.  Hadda  get  HP  sympathy  out  o'  Irene." 

"I'll  put  you  to  bed,  Tommy,"  said  Trenton.  "A 
nap  will  pull  you  out  of  this." 

"No  y'  don't,  Ward,  old  man!  Not  slippy;  not  bit 
slippy." 

"He's  got  a  dinner  engagement  in  town  at  seven 
and  I've  got  a  date  myself,"  said  Irene.  "I'll  take 
him  home.  The  chauffeur  will  look  after  him.  There's 


258  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

no  use  letting  him  spoil  the  day  for  you  and  Grace. 
You  came  out  in  the  runabout,  didn't  you,  Jerry?  Jerry 
can  walk  over  to  the  interurban  when  he's  ready  to  go 
and  you  two  can  take  your  time  about  going  in.  You 
can  manage  the  runabout,  can't  you,  Ward?" 

"That's  easy  enough,"  Trenton  replied,  frowning  in 
his  perplexity  as  he  eyed  Kemp,  who  had  stumbled  to 
a  chair  where  he  sat  breathing  heavily.  "But  I  don't 
like  your  going  in  alone  with  Tommy." 

Irene  bent  over  Kemp  and  drew  a  phial  from  his 
pocket.  She  shook  out  a  tablet  and  placed  it  in  his 
mouth.  The  vigilant  Japanese  boy  was  ready  with  a 
glass  of  water. 

"Strych-ni-ah,"  explained  Kemp  with  a  drunken 
grin.  "How  you  come  think  o'  that,  Irene?  First  aid 
'n  all  that  sor'  thing.  Givin'  me  poison;  thass  wha' 
she's  doin'.  Forgot  I  had  tha'  stuff  in  my  pocket. 
Awfu'  funny.  Doctor  cut  off  whiskey  and  gimme  rat 
poison.  Mos'  singular.  Mos'  incomree — in-com-pre- 
hens-ble." 

He  lay  back  in  his  chair  and  threw  out  his  legs, 
wagging  his  head  as  he  laughed  inordinately  at  his 
lingual  difficulties.  When  Trenton  tried  to  feel  his 
pulse  he  good-naturedly  resisted.  He  was  perfectly  all 
right;  never  felt  better  in  his  life,  he  declared. 

The  question  of  his  immediate  return  to  town  was 
peremptorily  settled  by  Irene,  who  rang  for  the  car. 

"His  heart's  certainly  doing  queer  things,"  said 
Trenton.  "It  would  be  better  for  us  all  to  go  in." 

"Oh,  he'll  come  out  of  it.  It's  nearly  dark  and  I'll 
open  the  car  window  and  give  him  air.  Craig's  driven 
him  for  years  and  he'll  look  after  him  at  home.  I'm 
sick  of  this  business.  If  he  wants  to  kill  himself  let 
him  go  ahead." 

"He  oughtn't  to  be  left  alone  at  home,"  said  Grace. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  259 

"You'd  better  go  in  with  him,  Ward,  and  see  that  he 
has  the  doctor." 

"You'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  Irene  de- 
cisively. "I've  been  through  this  before  and  his  heart 
kicking  up  this  way  doesn't  mean  anything.  Alcohol 
hits  him  quick  but  it  doesn't  last  long.  He  really 
didn't  have  enough  to  make  a  baby  tipsy.  But  he 
never  learns  that  he  can't  stand  it.  You  two  just  for- 
get all  about  him." 

Craig,  the  chauffeur,  came  in  with  Kemp's  coat  and 
they  got  him  into  it;  but  Kemp  played  for  delay. 
His  dinner  engagement  was  of  no  consequence;  he 
insisted  that  Irene  could  go  alone  if  she  pleased; 
she  was  a  quitter  and  above  all  things  he  hated 
a  quitter.  His  engagement  to  dine  was  at  the 
Isaac  Cummings's,  and  the  fact  that  he  was  asked 
there  called  for  an  elaborate  explanation  which  he 
insisted  on  delivering  from  the  door.  People  were  al- 
ways boring  him  by  asking  him  to  do  things  when  his 
wife  was  away,  from  a  mistaken  idea  that  a  man  alone 
in  town  is  a  forlorn  and  pitiable  being,  subject  to  the 
wiles  of  people  he  cares  nothing  for  and  in  normal  cir- 
cumstances avoids.  He  warmed  to  the  work  of  abus- 
ing Cummings;  it  was  an  impertinence  on  the  part 
of  his  business  competitor  to  invite  him  to  his  house. 
The  Cummingses  were  climbers;  his  wife  detested  Mrs. 
Cummings,  and  if  she  had  been  home  he  wouldn't  have 
been  trapped  into  an  engagement  of  which  he  now  pro- 
foundly repented;  and  besides  the  dinner  would  be 
dry;  he  would  never  be  able  to  sit  through  it.  The 
insistence  of  the  others  that  it  was  a  formal  function 
and  that  it  was  too  late  to  withdraw  his  acceptance 
aroused  him  to  an  elaborate  elucidation  of  the  Cum- 
mings's offer  of  hospitality.  Cummings  was  hard  up; 
he  had  sunk  a  lot  of  money  in  oil  ventures.  Kemp  re- 


260  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

cited  a  list  of  Cummings's  liabilities,  tracing  imaginary 
tables  of  figures  on  the  wall  with  an  unsteady  finger 
and  turning  to  his  auditors  for  their  concurrence  in 
his  opinion  that  Cummings  was  on  the  verge  of  bank- 
ruptcy. 

"Playin'  up  to  me;  thinks  Tom  Kemp's  goin'  help 
him  out!  Poor  boob'd  like  to  merge — merge  his  busi- 
ness with  me — me!  No  y'  don't,  Mr.  Cummings!"  he 
bowed  mockingly  to  an  imaginary  Cummings.  The 
bow  would  have  landed  him  on  the  floor  if  Trenton 
hadn't  caught  him. 

"Jes7  foolin';  don'  need  to  hoi'  me,  Ward,"  he  said, 
straightening  himself.  "Goin'  home  ri'  now.  Miss 
Kirby  take  my  arm!  Guess  I  know  my  manners; 
or 'nary  courtesy  due  lady  'nevery  part  th'  worl'." 

Irene  steadied  him  to  the  car,  and  after  Craig  had 
lifted  him  in  he  waved  his  hand  to  Trenton  and  Grace 
with  an  effort  at  gaiety. 

"House  all  yours,  Ward;  make  y'  present  ole  Shack. 
Burn  it  down;  do's  y'  please.  Jerry'll  give  y'  any- 
thin'  y'  want — wine  'neverythin'." 

II 

Grace  and  Trenton  watched  the  car  turn  the  long 
bend  toward  the  highway  and  hurried  back  to  the 
fire  of  hickory  logs  that  crackled  merrily  in  the  living- 
room  fire-place. 

"Now  for  tea!"  said  Grace.  "I  ate  a  huge  dinner 
but  our  tramp's  given  me  a  new  appetite." 

She  sat  down  before  the  tray  while  he  stood  by  the 
hearth,  resting  his  elbow  on  the  mantel-shelf,  watch- 
ing her.  Jerry  asked  if  he  should  turn  on  the  lights. 

"Thank  you,  no,  Jerry;"  Grace  answered.  "The 
fire  gives  light  enough.  No;  don't  trouble  about  din- 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  261 

ner.  You  might  give  us  some  sandwiches  with  our 
tea." 

There  was  a  broad  smile  on  Trenton's  face  as  he 
took  his  cup  and  sat  down  near  her. 

"What's  the  joke,  Ward?"  she  asked.  She  was  now 
finding  it  easy  to  call  him  Ward. 

"It's  not  a  joke;  I  was  just  admiring  your  manner 
of  addressing  Jerry.  It  was  quite  perfect.  He  was 
greatly  impressed  by  it." 

"Oh,  was  that  it!  What  did  you  expect  me  to  do — 
snap  at  him?" 

"No;  I  was  only  thinking  how  charming  you'd  be 
as  the  lady  of  a  great  house.  Your  slaves  would  wor- 
ship you.  Jerry  caught  the  idea  too;  I  never  saw 
him  bow  so  low." 

"Jerry's  adorable,"  she  murmured,  her  eyes  flash- 
ing her  appreciation  of  Trenton's  compliment.  "But, 
really  I  must  look  awful;  my  hair's  in  a  mess.  I'll  run 
upstairs  and  give  it  a  smoothing  as  soon  as  we've  had 
tea." 

"Please  don't!  I  like  it  that  way.  The  dark  frame 
for  your  face  adds  a  charm  that's  bewildering!" 

"What  did  Tommy  mean  about  Cummings?"  she 
asked  presently.  "Isn't  the  Cummings  business  pros- 
pering?" 

"Tommy  must  know  what  he's  talking  about. 
He  never  quite  loses  his  head  even  when  he's 
drunk.  These  are  anxious  times  and  it's  quite  pos- 
sible that  Cummings  is  hard  up.  Tommy  can  afford 
to  feel  easy  because  he's  well  off  even  without  his 
manufacturing  business.  I've  got  to  do  something 
about  Tommy,  though,"  he  went  on  thoughtfully. 
"His  New  York  doctor  told  me  he'll  have  to  stop  his 
monkey  shines  or  something  unpleasant  will  happen 
to  him.  While  I'm  here  I'm  going  to  try  to  get  him 


262  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

to  submit  to  treatment.  But  he's  not  easy  to  manage 
— frankly  says  he  prefers  a  short  life  and  a  merry  one. 
We've  got  to  save  Tommy  if  we  can." 

He  smiled  a  little  sadly.  Grace  liked  the  way  he 
talked  of  Kemp  and  listened  attentively  while  he  gave 
many  instances  of  Tommy's  kindness  and  generosity. 

"About  your  father's  improvements  on  the  motor," 
Trenton  continued,  "I'll  go  into  that  while  I'm  here. 
From  the  claims  of  the  new  patents  it  would  appear 
that  he's  got  something  of  real  value;  but  we'll  have 
to  give  them  a  try-out.  We  can  do  that  at  Kemp's 
shop.  Of  course  Tommy  will  be  anxious  to  get  the 
new  ideas  if  they're  practical." 

"Even  a  small  success  just  now  will  mean  so  much 
to  father,"  said  Grace.  "He  was  greatly  excited  by 
your  letter  and  had  to  be  convinced  that  you  weren't 
acting  for  Cummings.  He  pretends  to  mother  that 
there  was  nothing  unfair  in  Cummings's  treatment  of 
him,  but  deep  down  in  his  heart  he's  terribly  bitter." 

A  fire  makes  for  intimacy  and  their  concord  was 
now  so  complete  that  silence  had  all  the  felicity  of 
speech.  The  perfect  expression  of  love  may  be  con- 
veyed in  a  glance  and  from  time  to  time  their  eyes 
met  in  communications  too  precious  for  words. 
After  these  mute  periods  the  talk  would  ripple  on 
again  unhurriedly  as  though  they  were  the  inheritors 
of  immeasurable  time. 

In  moments  of  animation  when  her  dark  eyes 
flashed  and  she  smilingly  invited  his  response  she  dis- 
closed now  and  beguiling  charms.  In  its  disorder  her 
hair  emphasized  what  Irene  was  fond  of  calling 
Grace's  gypsy  look. 

The  tea  disposed  of,  she  sent  away  the  tray  and  as 
his  cigarette  case  was  empty  she  filled  it  from  a  box 
Jerry  found  for  her. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  263 

"It  seems  funny  to  be  using  other  people's  things 
this  way,"  she  remarked.  "It's  like  finding  a  house 
in  perfect  running  order  on  a  desert  island." 

"You  don't  know  what  a  joy  it  is  to  be  waited  on  in 
this  fashion." 

He  looked  up  at  her  fondly  as  she  stood  beside  him. 
When  she  returned  the  case  he  drew  her  upon  his 
knees,  took  her  hand  and  scrutinized  it  closely.  He 
pressed  a  kiss  upon  the  palm  and  closed  his  fingers 
upon  it. 

"How  long  will  you  keep  it?"  he  asked. 

"The  hand?"  she  asked  provokingly. 

"No;  what  I've  just  put  into  it!" 
'"Oh,  I  don't  need  to  keep  that,  do  I?   Won't  there 
be  some  more?" 

"Millions!"  he  replied  and  clasped  her  tight. 

"Your  hands  are  finely  shaped  and  interesting, 
Ward.  Oh,  you  have  a  double  life  line!  You'll  never 
die!  The  Mount  of  Apollo  is  wonderfully  developed — 
don't  you  see  it,  right  there?  Of  course  that's  what 
that  is.  It's  plain  enough  why  music  affects  you  so. 
You  really  might  have  been  an  artist  of  some  kind 
yourself." 

This  called  for  an  argument  in  the  course  of  which 
she  got  illuminative  glimpses  of  him  as  a  boy  who 
was  always  interested  in  machinery.  He  had  been 
predestined  to  the  calling  he  had  chosen  but  confessed 
that  sometimes  he  wished  that  he  had  tried  his  hand 
at  executive  work. 

"I  may  do  it  yet,"  he  said.  "I  have  opportunities 
occasionally,  which  I'm  probably  foolish  to  let  pass,  to 
take  hold  of  big  concerns.  But  I've  liked  my  freedom 
to  roam.  It's  helped  solve  my  problem  to  be  able  to 
wander." 

"Yes,  I  understand,  dear,"  she  said  softly,  stroking 


264  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

his  hair.  She  knew  that  by  his  problem  he  meant  his 
wife.  Though  she  had  accepted  as  sincere  his  ex- 
planation of  his  relations  with  Mrs.  Trenton,  she  re- 
sented in  spite  of  herself  even  this  remote  reference  to 
the  woman  whom  she  had  never  seen  but  had  con- 
stantly tried  to  visualize. 

"I  might  even  move  to  Indianapolis  one  of  these 
days,"  he  was  saying.  "I  have  a  standing  offer  from 
Tommy  to  come  and  help  him  run  his  plant.  I  tell 
him  it's  his  game  to  wish  his  job  on  me  so  he  can 
have  more  time  to  play.  And  Tommy  doesn't  need 
that!" 

She  drew  from  his  waistcoat  pocket  the  locket  that 
had  so  aroused  her  curiosity  at  their  first  meeting. 

"What's  in  this,  Ward?"  she  asked,  holding  up  the 
round  gold  trinket. 

"Oh,  that!"  he  said,  frowning  at  it. 

"Don't  look  so  cross!  Must  I  tease  you  to  show  me 
what's  inside?" 

As  she  dangled  it  at  arm's  length  he  encouraged 
the  idea  that  its  contents  were  secret  by  snatching  it 
away. 

"It's  the  darkest  of  mysteries.  What  will  you  give 
me  for  a  peep?" 

"I  might  give  you  one  kiss,"  she  said,  deliberating, 
"if  I  like  what's  inside." 

"Oh,  I  must  have  three!" 

"Agreed.    But  don't  show  me  if  you  don't  want  to." 

"Well,  it's  a  great  concession,  a  privilege  reserved 
only  for  royalty." 

He  opened  the  locket  guardedly,  so  turning  it  as  to 
conceal  the  inner  surfaces. 

"Just  a  moment,  please.  Do  you  stand  by  the  bar- 
gain?" 

"Absolutely." 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  265 

He  gave  it  to  her,  laughing  at  her  disappointment 
at  finding  it  empty. 

"Fraud!"  she  exclaimed.  "How  long  has  it  been 
empty?" 

"Do  you  really  want  to  know?"  he  asked,  suddenly 
grave. 

"Yes;  but  not  if  you'd  rather  not  tell  me." 

"I  can't  give  the  exact  date,  but  you  can  approxi- 
mate it  for  yourself.  Do  you  remember  the  first  time 
I  wrote  you — from  St.  Louis?  It  seems  aeons  ago!" 

"Yes;  I'll  never  forget  that." 

"Well,  that  night  I  took  out  and  destroyed  a  little 
photograph  I'd  carried  there  for  a  good  many  years. 
I'll  leave  you  to  guess  why  I  didn't  care  for  it  any 
more." 

"Your  wife's  picture?" 

"Yes;  I  bought  the  locket  right  after  we  were  en- 
gaged and  the  picture  had  been  there  until  I  took  it 
out  that  night  in  St.  Louis." 

"Tell  me  more  about  how  you  came  to  take  it  out," 
she  asked  with  the  insistence  of  a  child  demanding  the 
continuation  of  a  story.  "Didn't  it  have  any  kind  of 
meaning  for  you  any  more, — not  even  little  associa- 
tions— memories — you  wouldn't  lose?" 

"No;  it  was  as  though  something  had  died  in  me 
and  utterly  ceased  to  be.  I  was  wondering  about  a 
lot  of  things  that  night.  After  I  had  written  to  you 
I  wrote  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Trenton.  She  had  said  from 
time  to  time  that  if  I  ever  found  myself  interested  in 
another  woman  not  to  be  afraid  to  tell  her.  I  don't 
know  how  seriously  she  meant  that.  Odd  as  it  may 
seem,  I  don't  know  Mrs.  Trenton!  I  used  to  think  I 
did  but  that  was  sheer  conceit  on  my  part.  As  long 
as  she  had  made  that  suggestion — about  telling  her  if 
I  met  a  woman  who  really  appealed  to  me  more  than 


266  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

she  did — I  thought  I'd  tell  her  about  you.  Oh,  I  didn't 
tell  your  name  nor  where  you  live!"  he  exclaimed 
seeing  the  look  of  consternation  on  Grace's  face.  "My 
agreement  with  her  was  half  a  joke;  in  later  years  I've 
never  quite  known  when  to  take  her  seriously.  I 
suppose  I  wrote  her  more  to  feel  her  out  as  to  whether 
she  might  not  have  reached  the  point  where  it  would 
be  a  good  thing  to  quit  altogether." 

"Well,"  Grace  asked,  "what  did  she  say?" 

"Oh,  so  far  her  only  answer  has  been  a  magnificent 
silence!  The  philosophers  agree,  don't  they,  that  a 
woman  doesn't  always  mean  what  she  says?  But  a 
silence  is  even  more  baffling.  What  would  you  say 
about  it?" 

"A  little  ominous — perhaps " 

"Contempt,  disdain,  indifference?  Maybe  she's  just 
awaiting  further  advices,  as  we  say  in  business." 

"Possibly  she  never  got  the  letter." 

"That's  conceivable;  she's  a  fast  traveler;  the  mails 
have  hard  work  to  catch  up  with  her." 

"You  don't  really  know  whether  she  got  the  letter 
or  what  she  would  have  written  if  she  received  it. 
Maybe  she's  just  waiting  for  a  chance  to  talk  to  you 
about  it." 

"Well,  in  any  event  we  needn't  worry  about  it,"  said 
Trenton  with  a  shrug.  She  rose  and  drew  up  a  low 
rocker  and  sat  beside  him,  facing  the  fire. 

"I'd  like  to  have  seen  your  letter,"  said  Grace, 
musingly. 

"I  told  her  you  kissed  me.  Like  a  brave  man  I  put 
the  responsibility  on  you!" 

"Oh,  that  wasn't  fair!"  she  cried  hastily.  "It  would 
be  sure  to  give  her  a  bad  impression  of  me." 

"I  think  I  intimated  that  it  was  only  such  a  kiss  as 
a  daughter  might  bestow  upon  a  father  she  didn't 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  267 

think  so  badly  of!  I  shall  always  be  glad  that  our  first 
kiss  was  like  that;  we've  traveled  a  long  way  since 
then." 

"Every  step  has  been  so  dear,"  she  said  contentedly. 
"I  think  I  could  never  forget  one  single  thing.  I 
don't  believe  I've  forgotten  a  word  you've  ever  said  to 
me.  And  when  you  were  away  I  lived  our  times  all 
over  again.  And  I  like  to  imagine  that  we  talk  to  each 
other  by  our  own  private  wireless  etfen  when  you  are 
miles  away.  I  think  I  can  imagine  just  what  you 
would  say  and  how  you  would  look  when  you  said  it. 
Oh, — "  she  bent  forward  quickly  and  grasped  his 
hand  in  both  of  hers;  her  lips  quivered  and  there  was 
a  mist  in  her  eyes.  "Oh! — I  wish  I  didn't  love  you  so 
much!" 

"Has  it  occurred  to  you,"  he  asked,  "that  we're 
alone  away  out  here  in  the  woods?" 

"I  don't  feel  a  bit  lonesome;  I'd  never  be  afraid 
anywhere  with  you!" 

The  fire  had  burned  low  and  she  watched  admir- 
ingly his  manner  of  replenishing  it.  He  used  the 
shovel  to  push  back  the  ashes  and  bring  the  embers  to- 
gether in  a  neat  bed,  in  the  center  of  which  he  dropped 
a  fresh  log  with  calculated  accuracy.  It  was  his 
scientific  mind,  she  reflected,  habituated  to  careful 
planning  even  in  unimportant  things.  He  stood  for  a 
moment  inspecting  his  work;  moved  the  log  a  trifle; 
watched  attentively  the  effect  of  the  change,  and  as 
the  dry  loose  bark  broke  into  flame  brushed  the  hearth 
neatly  and  smiled  into  her  eyes  as  he  found  her  at 
his  side. 

"You  do  everything  just  right!  I  love  to  see  you  use 
your  hands,"  she  said.  "They're  so  strong  and  skill- 
ful." 

"I  ought  to  know  something  about  fires;  I've  made 


268  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

enough  of  them.  As  a  young  fellow  I  did  a  lot  of  jobs 
that  took  me  into  remote  places,  surveying  and  con- 
struction gangs;  and  I've  camped  a  bit — hunting  and 
fishing.  I  might  even  say  that  I  can  make  coffee  and 
fry  bacon  without  utterly  destroying  their  food 
values." 

She  established  him  before  the  fire  in  the  most  com- 
fortable chair  in  the  room  and  sat  at  his  feet.  With 
her  arms  folded  ifjDon  his  knees  to  make  a  resting  place 
for  her  head  she  listened  with  the  rapt  attention  a 
child  gives  to  a  beguiling  chronicler  as  he  told  how  he 
was  lost  for  three  days  in  the  Canadian  wilds,  and  of 
a  flight  by  canoe  on  a  stormy  night  to  fetch  a  doctor 
for  one  of  his  party  who  had  fallen  ill.  He  had  given 
her  from  the  first  a  sense  of  far  horizons,  and  to- 
night her  fancy  perfected  every  picture  his  narratives 
suggested  of  hills  and  woodlands  and  streams.  They 
constituted  a  new  back-ground  against  which  she  saw 
in  him  an  heroic  figure  equal  to  any  demand  that 
might  be  made  upon  his  strength  and  courage. 

"One  of  these  days,"  he  went  on,  "We  must  do  the 
Canadian  Rockies  together;  and  then  I'd  like  to  take 
you  to  some  places  I  know  in  Maine — just  guides  and 
canoes  and  us;  and  I  want  to  do  India  before  I  die, 
but  not  without  you.  You're  in  all  my  future!  I  want 
to  live  a  long  time  to  enjoy  life  with  you.  Does  that 
appal  you?" 

She  was  gazing  wide-eyed  into  the  fire,  her  dark 
eyes  the  harbor  of  dreams,  and  he  laughed  and  bent 
forward  to  touch  her  cheek  and  break  the  spell  that 
bound  her. 

"I  should  love  it  all,  dear!"  she  said  with  a  happy 
sigh.  "To  be  with  you,  to  share  everything  with  you! 
Oh,  that  would  be  more  happiness  than  I  could  bear!" 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  269 

"You  do  love  me;  tell  me,  dear,  once  more,  that 
you  do!" 

"More  than  all  this  earth  and  the  stars  I  More 
than  all  the  other  universes  beyond  this  onel"  she 
cried,  laughing  at  her  extravagance. 

He  raised  his  hand  and  bade  her  listen. 

"I  thought  the  wind  changed  awhile  ago.  The 
weather  spirit's  abroad.  Let's  have  a  look." 

He  threw  on  the  porch  lights  and  opened  the  front 
door.  It  was  snowing  hard;  the  porch  steps  and  drive- 
way were  already  covered,  and  the  nearest  trees  had 
been  transformed  into  ghostly  sentinels.  She  clapped 
her  hands  in  delight  at  the  beauty  of  it. 

"It  makes  me  think  of  'Snow  Bound,'  "  she  said  when 
they  had  gone  back  to  the  fire.  "I  used  to  know  some 
of  that  poem.  Little  Grace  will  now  recite  for  you!" 
She  assumed  the  attitude  of  a  school  girl  recitationist 
and  repeated,  gesturing  awkwardly: 

'What  matter  how  the  night  behaved? 
What  matter  how  the  north- wind  raved? 
Blow  high,  blow  low,  not  all  its  snow 
Could  quench  our  hearth-fire's  ruddy  glow.' 
I'm    talented;    you    can    see    thatl      What    if    we 
should  be  snowed  in?" 

"What  if  we  should!"  he  answered.  "Tommy  al- 
ways carries  a  full  larder  and  we  wouldn't  starve  to 
death." 

With  her  hands  clasped  before  her  she  gazed  down 
at  the  flames.  He  drew  his  arm  about  her  waist  and 
the  room  was  silent  save  for  the  cosy  murmur  of  the 
fire. 

"Why  not  stay  here  all  night?  Jerry  hasn't  left  and 
he'll  spend  the  night  if  I  ask  him  and  give  us  break- 
fast. I  suppose  you  have  to  go  to  the  store  to- 
morrow?" 


270  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

"Yes, — "  the  assent  was  to  one  or  all  of  his  ques- 
tions as  he  might  choose  to  interpret  it. 

"We  can  go  hi  of  course,  early  in  the  morning.  I 
have  a  nine  o'clock  engagement  myself." 

"They'll  be  expecting  me  at  home,"  she  said,  pon- 
dering deeply,  "but  if  I  could  telephone  from 
here " 

"I  think  Tommy's  connected  direct  with  the  city 
exchange.  Jerry  can  tell  us." 

He  rang  for  Jerry,  who  confirmed  his  impression 
as  to  the  telephone  connection. 

Trenton  detained  the  boy  to  ask  for  more  logs 
while  Grace  went  to  the  pantry  to  telephone. 

"Were  you  going  into  town  tonight,  Jerry?" 

"No,  Mr.  Trenton;  too  complete  snowing.  I  very 
well  stay  all  night." 

"The  runabout's  in  order,  is  it?" 

"Yezzah." 

"Miss  Durland  and  I  are  spending  the  night.  If 
you  could  give  us  breakfast,  Jerry?" 

"With  much  ease,  Mr.   Trenton." 

Trenton  lit  a  cigarette  and  smoked  meditatively 
while  Jerry  noiselessly  filled  the  wood  box.  Grace 
reappeared  as  Jerry  stood  awaiting  further  instruc- 
tions. 

"Oh,  Grace,  what  time  shall  we  say  for  breakfast?" 
Trenton  asked  casually. 

"I  must  be  at  the  store  at  eight-thirty,"  she  an- 
swered from  the  door. 

"Then  breakfast  at  seven?  We'd  better  allow  a 
little  extra  time  in  case  the  snow  keeps  up.  Seven  it 
is,  Jerry." 

The  boy  left  them  and  could  be  heard  moving 
about  upstairs.  A  clock  struck  ten  and  Trenton  ex- 
claimed at  the  hour. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  271 

"I'd  have  guessed  it  wasn't  more  than  eight!  The 
hours  do  jump  along  when  the  heart's  light.  Any 
difficulty  about  not  going  in?" 

"No;  not  at  all.  Every  one  was  out  but  father  and 
I  merely  said  I  was  at  the  house  of  a  girl  friend  and 
would  spend  the  night  there." 

She  walked  to  a  table  and  began  inspecting  the 
books  that  were  arranged  upon  it  in  careful  order. 
It  might  have  seemed  that  she  wished  to  avoid  meet- 
ing his  eyes  immediately.  He  hesitated  a  moment  then 
crossed  to  her  quickly. 

"It's  always  interesting  to  see  what  books  you  find 
in  a  country  house,"  he  said.  "But  it's  a  mistake  to 
judge  the  owner  by  the  literature  you  find  lying  about; 
it's  usually  the  discards  of  the  guests.  At  the  place 
where  I  caused  so  much  disappointment  by  not 
dying " 

"Oh,  please  don't  say  it,  even  as  a  joke,  Wardl" 
she  pleaded,  dropping  a  book  she  had  opened  and  lay- 
ing her  hands  on  his  arm. 

"Well,  I  won't  then!  I  was  jealous  of  that  book. 
You  were  so  absorbed  I  almost  felt  that  I  was  alone 
in  the  room.  And  I  was  horribly  oppressed  by  the 
general  vacancy,  emptiness,  voidness!  Now  my  van- 
ity is  touched  to  find  that  you  hadn't  really  gone  away 
and  left  me;  you're  very  much  here!" 

"You're  so  foolish!"  she  said.  "What  were  the 
books  you  found  in  your  room  at  that  place  where 
you  were  ill?" 

"Oh,  they  were  on  the  occult  and  had  been  left 
behind  by  some  enthusiastic  spook  hunter.  After 
that  hour  when  I  so  plainly  saw  you  right  there  by 
my  bed  I  studied  those  books  carefully.  I  wanted  to 
explain  the  transformation  of  a  very  plain  nurse  in 
spectacles  into  the  most  beautiful  girl  in  the  world!" 


272  BROKEN  BARRIERS. 

"And, — did  you  explain  it?" 

"Yes;  but  not  from  the  books!" 

"How  was  it  then?" 

"My  heart  did  the  explaining.  I  knew  I  loved  you! 
^That's  the  answer  to  all  my  questions." 

"You  do  love  me,  Ward,  really  and  truly?" 

"Yes,  dear,"  and  then  with  head  lifted  he  added  as 
though  repeating  a  pledge  from  some  ritual:  "With 
all  my  heart,  with  all  my  soul,  with  every  hope  of 
happiness  I  have  for  the  future,  I  love  you!" 

He  took  her  in  his  arms  and  held  her  so  that  he 
could  look  down  into  her  eyes. 

"I  want  to  be  everything  to  you;  I  want  to  fill  your 
heart  so  that  you  will  turn  to  me  in  every  need.  I  want 
you,  all  or  nothing!" 

Her  lips  parted  tremulously,  inviting  his  kiss.  She 
felt  singularly  secure  and  content  in  his  arms. 

"All  or  nothing?"  she  repeated  in  a  low  whisper. 

"Yes!  There  was  no  escape  for  us  from  the  be- 
ginning," he  said  slowly.  "It's  been  like  a  drawing 
of  the  tide  that  no  man's  hand  could  stay." 

They  walked  slowly  to  the  hearth,  his  hands  thrust 
deep  into  his  coat  pockets.  He  eyed  the  fire  critically 
and  rearranged  the  half-burnt  logs. 

"Guess  I'd  better  put  this  up  as  a  precaution,"  he  re- 
marked lifting  the  wire  screen  that  stood  against  the 
wall  and  laying  it  against  the  arch  under  the  mantel. 
"Run  along,  dear.  I'll  see  to  the  locking  up." 

He  went  into  the  hall  and  snapped  on  the  lights 
and  kissed  his  hand  to  her  as  she  started  up  the 
steep,  old-fashioned  stair.  The  lights  were  turned  on 
in  all  the  rooms  and  humming  softly  she  wandered 
through  them,  pausing  finally  in  one  in  which  a  suit- 
case lay  open  on  a  chair,  evidently  placed  there  by 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  273 

Jerry.    She  recognized  it  as  Irene's,  kept  at  The  Shack 
for  occasions  when  she  spent  the  night  there. 

Below,  Trenton  was  testing  the  fastening  of  the 
doors.  She  lifted  her  head,  listening  intently  as  she 
heard  his  step. 


Ill 


As  she  dressed  the  next  morning  Grace  saw  a  white 
world  reluctantly  disclosing  itself  in  the  gray  dawn. 
Trenton  was  already  gone,  and  hearing  the  scraping 
of  a  shovel  she  looked  out  and  saw  him  clearing  a 
path  that  led  to  an  old  barn  which  Kemp  had  con- 
verted into  a  garage.  Jerry  darted  out  of  the  kitchen 
to  remonstrate  and  Trenton  ceased  from  his  labors 
to  fling  a  shovelful  of  snow  at  him. 

When  she  went  down  Trenton  met  her  in  the  hall, 
kissed  her  and  led  her  with  mock  ceremony  to  the 
dining  room  door. 

"Breakfast  for  two!  Something  awfully  cozy  about 
that  table,  with  the  plates  so  close  together  1" 

"Just  perfect!  I'd  like  to  take  a  run  through  the 
snow;  wouldn't  it  be  jolly!  And  there's  that  hill  we 
climbed  yesterday  that  would  be  a  grand  place  for 
coasting!" 

"No  time  for  that  now!"  he  replied  looking  at  his 
watch.  "There's  a  good  six  inches  of  snow  and 
being  out  so  early  we'll  have  to  be  pathfinders. 
It  will  be  about  all  we  can  do  to  hit  Washington  street 
by  eight-thirty.  There's  going  to  be  waffles  and  maple 
syrup  for  breakfast.  I  got  that  out  of  Jerry;  also 
bacon  and  guaranteed  eggs." 

"The  Olympians  had  nothing  on  us!"  she  replied  in 
his  own  key  of  gaiety. 


274  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

"Oh,  we  are  become  even  as  the  gods!"  he  cried, 
drawing  out  her  chair.  "This  is  a  touch — breakfast 
by  candlelight!" 

Tall  candles  in  glass  holders  lighted  the  table. 
Grace  for  a  fleeting  moment  thought  of  the  kitchen 
at  home,  where  her  mother  and  Ethel  were  now  pre- 
paring breakfast,  wholly  ignorant  of  her  whereabouts. 
Trenton  saw  the  smile  waver  and  leave  her  face,  and 
he  bent  over  and  laid  his  hand  on  hers. 

"You  know — No!  you  don't,  you  can't  know  what 
all  this  means  to  me!  I  feel  as  though  I'd  been  dead 
and  come  to  life  again!" 

"Does  it  mean  so  much,  dear?"  she  asked,  her  eyes, 
intent  and  searching,  meeting  his. 

"If  you  look  at  me  like  that,  dear,"  he  replied,  "I'll 
never  be  able  to  finish  this  grapefruit!"  Then  with  a 
quick  change  of  tone  he  asked  anxiously: 

"You're  not  unhappy,  dear?" 

"No;  it's  just  the  strangeness  of  being  here;  that's 
all." 

"It  doesn't  seem  real  to  me,  either.  I'd  thought  so 
much  of  just  such  an  hour  as  this,  facing  a  new  day 
and  a  new  world  with  you,  that  it's  hard  to  believe 
the  dream  has  really  come  true!" 

"But  you'll  be  going  away.  There  will  be  lots  of 
times  I  can't  see  you.  It's  going  to  be  hard  to  get 
used  to  that,"  she  said  pensively. 

"Don't  worry  on  that  score.  I've  got  a  lot  of  work 
laid  out  for  the  next  year  right  here  in  the  Middle 
West.  I  can  easily  spend  my  Sundays  in  Indianapolis. 
I'd  travel  a  mighty  long  way  just  for  a  sight  of  you. 
Let's  make  the  most  of  today  and  not  worry  about 
tomorrow.  Sufficient  unto  the  day  is  the  happiness 
thereof!" 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  275 

She  smiled  her  acquiscence  in  this  philosophy,  was 
again  buoyant,  and  joined  with  him  in  praising  Jerry 
as  the  boy  appeared  with  a  plate  of  fresh  waffles. 

"I  tell  you  what  I'll  do!"  exclaimed  Trenton  sud- 
denly. "I'll  cut  all  my  engagements  for  today  if  you 
will  and  we'll  stay  right  here!" 

"Oh,  it  would  be  wonderful!  But  I  mustn't  even 
think  of  it!  I'd  lose  my  job;  and  besides,  I  mustn't 
forget  I  have  a  family.  Please  don't  try  to  persuade 
me.  But  you  know  I'd  love  to  stay — not  just  today 
but  forever!" 

"I  wish  you  didn't  have  your  job!"  he  said,  frown- 
ing. "I  don't  feel  comfortable  about  that." 

"Don't  begin  telling  me  I  ought  to  be  doing  some- 
thing different  1  Everybody  else  does!  I  really  en- 
joy my  work  at  Shipley's." 

"There  ought  to  be  some  way, — "  he  began. 
Something  in  her  look  caused  him  to  pause.  "I  was 
going  to  say  that  I  don't  like  the  idea  of  your  work- 
ing— you  must  let  me — now — " 

"Ward!" 

"Forgive  me,  dear,"  he  said  contritely. 

"I  believe  in  work,"  she  went  on  quickly.  "I  mean 
always  to  do  something;  maybe  not  just  what  I'm  do- 
ing now,  but — something!" 

"When  you  talk  that  way  I  feel  as  though  you 
didn't  expect  to  belong  to  me  always."  He  rose  and 
drew  her  to  her  feet.  "Let's  have  that  understood 
here  and  now."  He  held  her  away,  his  hands  resting 
lightly  on  her  cheeks  as  he  looked  into  her  eyes  with 
mock  severity.  "We've  got  to  be  on  our  way  in  about 
two  minutes,  Miss  Durland,  and  there  must  be  no 
nonsense  about  this.  Is  it  for  always?" 

"Yes,  for  always,"  she  answered. 

"To  the  very  end?" 


276  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

"Yes,  to  the  very  end,"  she  assented  soberly,  and 
there  was  the  foreshadowing  of  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"No  matter  what  may  happen;  no  matter  if  there 
should  be  times  of  separation  beyond  our  control — 
you  will  still  love  me  and  trust  me?" 

"Yes — always.  There  will  never  be  any  one  else  for 
me  but  you, — not  if  I  live  a  thousand  years." 

She  put  her  arms  about  his  neck  and  kissed  him, — 
a  kiss  without  passion,  on  forehead  and  lips. 

"You  don't  care  less  for  me, — now?"  she  asked,  and 
pressed  her  face  close  to  his. 

"Grace!"  he  cried,  catching  her  wrists  and  looking 
into  her  eyes.  "You  wouldn't  think  that  of  me!  I'd 
be  a  beast " 

She  laid  her  hand  over  his  lips. 

"Forgive  me,  dear,"  she  whispered.  "If  I  didn't 
trust  you  I  couldn't  love  you;  and  I  just, — I 
thought " 

"Dearest  little  girl!" 

IV 

The  sun  came  out  of  the  mists  as  they  set  off  for 
town  with  the  snow  flung  up  by  the  rear  wheels  of 
the  car  whirling  behind  in  a  miniature  storm. 

"You're  not  afraid  of  a  little  speed?" 

"Not  with  you!"  she  answered  happily.  "Was  that 
the  right  answer?" 

"One  hundred  per  cent  correct!  Look  at  the  smoke 
from  that  farmer's  chimney — it  goes  up  as  straight 
as  a  column.  Not  a  breath  of  air!" 

"It's  a  dear  good  old  world,"  she  said,  her  eyes  re- 
flecting her  enjoyment  of  the  swift  rush  between  the 
long  stretches  of  white  level  fields  broken  by  patches 
of  woodland. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  277 

"What's  the  dearest  thing  in  all  the  world?"  he 
demanded. 

"You!"  she  replied. 

"Wrong  that  time !    It's  you ! " 

"I  wonder  how  many  lovers  have  said  just  that  to 
each  other?" 

"Thousands — billions,  no  doubt.  But  that  doesn't 
matter.  It  never  was  as  true  of  the  others  as  it  is 
of  us." 

"We're  not  conceited  or  anything!" 

"No;  just  happy!  Honestly  and  truly,  are  you 
happy?" 

"Enormously  1    Are  you  ? ' ' 

"Right  up  to  the  perishing  point!" 

"Then  why  are  you  happy?" 

"Because  the  dearest  girl  in  the  world  loves  me!" 

They  laughed  their  delight  in  this  interchange, 
stopped  to  extricate  from  its  difficulties  a  car  which, 
unprovided  with  skid-chains,  had  landed  in  a  ditch, 
and  hurried  on  to  make  up  for  lost  time.  It  was  with 
a  sense  of  disillusionment  that  Grace  saw  the  city,  as 
it  seemed,  coming  out  to  meet  her.  Trenton  was 
talking  of  his  day's  appointments,  of  the  men  he  ex- 
pected to  see.  Grace's  thoughts  flew  ahead  to  the 
store,  where  she  would  meet  Irene — meet  her  friend 
with  a  new  self-consciousness — and  of  the  deceptions 
and  evasions  that  would  be  necessary  to  explain  her 
night's  absence  at  home.  But  these  thoughts  were 
fleeting.  She  was  happy  in  the  confidence  that  the 
man  beside  her  truly  loved  her  and  her  love  for  him, 
which  she  had  so  often  challenged  and  questioned 
even  after  she  first  encouraged  him  to  think  she  cared, 
was  no  longer  a  matter  for  debate.  She  assured  her- 
self that  there  was  nothing  base  in  the  relationship 
into  which  she  had  entered  with  him;  that  the  attrac- 


278  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

tion  had  been  of  the  mind  and  spirit  first  of  all.  She 
swiftly  reviewed  all  the  points  upon  which  her  justi- 
fication rested,  and  was  satisfied  that  they  stood  the 
test  of  the  morning  sunlight  and  the  clean  wholesome 
air.  She  had  no  regrets;  no  misgivings.  She  had 
already  convinced  herself  that  their  love  was  sufficient 
in  itself.  He  turned  from  time  to  time  to  smile  at 
her  and  took  her  hand  that  it  might  rest  beneath  his 
on  the  wheel. 

"We  haven't  settled  yet  when  I'm  to  see  you  again. 
I  want  every  minute  you  can  give.  Can't  we  have 
dinner  together  tonight?" 

"I  wish  we  could,  but  I've  got  to  go  home  for 
supper." 

"But  I  can  see  you  afterwards, — please!" 

"I  could  go  to  Miss  Lawton's  where  we  met  the  first 
time.  I  think  I  can  fix  it  with  Minnie." 

"Then  that's  settled!  I  understand  perfectly  that 
you  have  your  family  to  consider  and  we've  got  to 
remember  there  are  people  in  the  world  who  haven't 
much  to  do  but  pry  into  other  people's  business. 
They're  a  large  and  michievous  phalanx.  For  the 
present  we've  got  to  be  careful." 

She  was  rather  relieved  that  he  did  not  amplify 
the  suggestive  "for  the  present."  He  was  thinking, 
she  assumed,  of  his  wife  and  the  freedom  which  he 
had  intimated  would  be  his  for  the  asking.  But  mar- 
riage was  no  assurance  of  the  perpetuation  of  love; 
it  was  a  convention,  no  doubt  desirable  and  necessary 
for  society's  protection;  but  Grace  was  in  a  mood  to 
enjoy  her  sense  of  being  in  rebellion  against  society, 
that  intangible  "they"  which,  she  had  brought  her- 
self to  believe,  quite  ignorantly  established  laws  and 
in  the  light  of  them  appraised  and  condemned  human 
frailty. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  279 

She  derived  the  greatest  comfort  from  this  idea;  it 
encouraged  and  strengthened  her  belief  that  she  was 
an  independent  unit  of  the  social  order.  If  her  rela- 
tionship with  Trenton  became  known  she  would  forfeit 
the  love  and  confidence  of  her  family  and  many  prized 
friendships.  But  his  love  would  be  compensation  for 
anything  she  might  lose  in  the  eyes  of  people  she  felt 
to  be  hopelessly  shackled  to  old  notions  of  rectitude 
and  chastity  with  which  she  no  longer  felt  any  con- 
cern. It  would  be  necessary,  of  course,  to  maintain 
secrecy;  but  it  was  no  one's  business  what  she  did  with 
her  life. 

"Last  chance  for  a  kiss,"  Trenton  exclaimed,  slip- 
ping his  arm  about  her  as  they  reached  the  Meridian 
street  bridge. 

She  asked  him  to  let  her  out  at  the  soldiers'  monu- 
ment to  avoid  the  possibility  of  being  inspected  by 
questioning  eyes  at  Shipley's.  Trenton  was  going  at 
once  to  Kemp's  house  to  make  sure  Tommy  was  all 
right;  he  meant  to  have  it  out  with  Tommy  about  his 
drinking. 

"Tell  your  father  I'd  like  to  see  him  tomorrow  at 
two  o'clock.  Yes;  I  have  the  address." 

With  his  good-bye  ringing  in  her  ears  she  walked 
the  few  remaining  blocks  to  the  store. 


CHAPTER  ELEVEN 


WHEN  Grace  reached  home  that  evening  her  absence 
of  the  preceding  night  was  barely  mentioned  by  her 
mother,  and  Ethel  did  not  refer  to  it  at  all.  The 
conduct  of  another  member  of  the  family  had  aroused 
grave  apprehensions  in  the  domestic  circle  and  any 
suspected  derelictions  of  her  own  were  suffered  to 
pass,  or  were  accepted  in  a  spirit  of  resignation,  as  a 
part  of  a  visitation  of  an  inscrutable  providence  upon 
the  house  of  Durland. 

Roy  had  turned  up  in  the  early  hours  of  the  morn- 
ing much  the  worse  for  dalliance  with  a  contraband 
beverage  that  had  served  him  ill.  There  was  gloom 
in  the  kitchen  where  she  found  her  mother  and  Ethel 
preparing  supper  and  after  satisfying  herself  that  she 
was  not  the  cause  of  the  depression  she  summoned 
courage  to  ask  her  mother  what  had  happened. 

"I  think,  mother,"  said  Ethel  loftily,  "that  Grace 
should  know.  It  may  be  possible  that  she  can  help 
us  in  our  trouble.  Roy  has  always  been  fonder  of  her 
than  of  me." 

Ethel's  tone  was  replete  with  intimations  that  this 
affection  was  not  wholly  complimentary  to  either  her 
brother  or  sister.  She  entered  upon  a  circumstantial 
account  of  Roy's  misbehavior  which  omitted  nothing 
that  could  enhance  its  heinousness,  Mrs.  Durland  in- 
terrupting occasionally  to  soften  the  harsh  terms  in 
which  Ethel  described  Roy's  appearance  on  the  snowy 
threshold  at  two  o'clock,  in  the  care  of  two  young 
friends  in  little  better  condition  than  himself.  It  had 

280 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  281 

been  necessary  to  summon  a  doctor  to  relieve  Roy's 
stomach  of  the  poison  he  had  consumed. 

"I'm  sure  it's  the  first  and  last  time  for  Roy,"  said 
Mrs.  Durland.  "He's  terribly  cut  up  over  it;  but  of 
course  at  the  holiday  season,  and  meeting  old  friends 
and  all,  I  suppose  we  must  make  allowances." 

"That's  the  way  to  look  at  it,  mother,"  said  Grace, 
sincerely  grieved  for  her  mother  and  anxious  to  restore 
her  confidence  in  Roy.  "I  know  Roy  wouldn't  do 
anything  to  trouble  you.  We  ought  to  be  glad  that 
stuff  didn't  kill  him!  Roy  isn't  the  only  boy  who 
thinks  it  smart  to  drink  now  that  it's  forbidden.  I 
hear  a  lot  about  that,  down-town." 

"I  suppose  you  do,"  said  Mrs.  Durland,  catching 
hopefully  at  the  suggestion  that  her  boy  was  not  the 
only  wanderer  in  the  path  that  leads  to  destruction. 

"Roy  knows  our  hopes  are  centered  in  him;  there's 
not  the  slightest  excuse  for  his  conduct!"  Ethel  re- 
sumed, unwilling  that  Roy's  sin  should  be  covered  up 
in  charitable  generalizations.  "Instead  of  running 
around  with  a  lot  of  dissolute  young  men  he  ought  to 
be  making  friends  who  can  help  him  get  a  start  in 
life.  As  for  prohibition,  it's  the  law  of  the  land  and 
you'd  think  a  young  man  who's  studying  law  would 
respect  it.  Only  the  other  day  Osgood  gave  me  an 
article  with  statistics  showing  what's  being  done  to 
enforce  the  law  and  it  will  only  be  a  short  time  until 
the  rum  power  is  completely  vanquished." 

"It's  dying  mighty  hard,"  remarked  Grace  cheer- 
fully. "Anybody  can  get  whiskey  who  has  the  price." 

"One  would  think — "  began  Ethel,  moved  at  once 
to  give  battle. 

"Oh,  I'm  not  hankering  for  it  myself,"  Grace  in- 
terrupted. "But  they  ought  to  enforce  the  law  or 
repeal  it.  I'm  only  saying  what  everybody  knows." 


282  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

"Well,  of  course,  Grace,  we  don't  know  just  who 
your  friends  are,"  Ethel  retorted. 

"Oh,  they  probably  wouldn't  amuse  you  even  if  you 
knew  them!"  Grace  flung  back. 

Whereupon  Mrs.  Durland,  who  was  arranging  a 
tray  with  coffee  and  toast  to  carry  up  to  Roy,  an- 
nounced that  enough  had  been  said  on  the  subject. 

II 

Trenton's  week  in  town  lengthened  to  ten  days. 
Minnie  Lawton's  apartment  proved  to  be  a  convenient 
meeting  place,  and  on  two  evenings  Grace  and  Trenton 
dined  there  alone,  with  Jerry  to  serve  them.  Trenton 
had  persuaded  Kemp  to  go  to  a  hospital  for  rest  and 
observation.  The  reports  of  the  local  physician  merely 
confirmed  what  the  New  York  specialist  had  told 
Trenton  as  to  his  friend's  condition.  Trenton  took 
Irene  and  Grace  to  the  hospital  to  see  Kemp  one 
evening.  They  found  him  looking  a  little  thin  and 
white  but  he  greeted  them  joyfully.  He  wasn't  wholly 
cut  off  from  civilization  in  spite  of  their  efforts  to  get 
rid  of  him,  he  said,  pointing  gleefully  to  a  telephone 
at  his  bedside  which  he  had  obtained  as  a  special 
concession.  He  boasted  that  he  could  lie  in  bed  and 
direct  his  business  affairs  almost  as  well  as  at  his 
office. 

"But  the  nurses  won't  flirt  with  me,"  he  complained, 
"and  you  girls  showed  up  just  in  time  to  keep  me  from 
passing  up  your  whole  unaccountable  sex.  I've  got  to 
be  amused  even  if  I  am  locked  up  here  with  fourteen 
disagreeable  things  being  done  to  me  every  day.  The 
purpose  of  woman  is  to  amuse." 

"There  you  go,  Tommy!  Women  are  divided  into 
two  classes,"  said  Irene  in  her  spacious  manner,  "those 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  283 

who  amuse  their  husbands  and  those  who  amuse  other 
women's  husbands.  It's  not  for  me  to  say  to  which 
variety,  subdivision  or  group  I  prefer  to  belong." 

Trenton  had  visited  Stephen  Durland  twice  at  his 
shop  in  the  Power  Building  and  at  the  hospital  he 
mentioned  the  matter  of  Durland's  improvements  on 
the  Cummings-Durland  motor.  The  issuance  of  the 
patents  to  Durland  had  brought  inquiries  from  several 
Eastern  manufacturers  and  the  representative  of  one 
concern  had  opened  negotiations  for  an  option. 

"Look  here,  Grace,"  said  Kemp  when  Trenton  had 
explained  concisely  the  nature  of  the  improvements, 
"I'm  going  to  be  mighty  sore  if  you  let  this  escape 
before  I  have  a  look  at  it.  Go  on,  Ward,  and  tell  me 
more  about  it." 

"You  father  must  have  something  good,"  said  Irene, 
who  had  listened  attentively  to  the  talk,  "for  I  don't 
understand  a  word  of  it.  I  hope  there's  millions  in  it." 

"That  new  composition  Mr.  Durland's  working  on 
for  non-cracking  spark-plug  porcelains  will  be  worth 
something  handsome  if  it's  as  good  as  it  promises  to 
be,"  Trenton  remarked.  Kemp's  alert  curiosity  had 
to  be  satisfied  as  to  the  nature  of  the  substance  Dur- 
land was  working  on  and  Trenton  went  into  the  chem- 
istry of  the  composition  and  said  it  would  have  to  be 
subjected  to  more  exacting  tests. 

"We'll  test  that  at  my  plant  too,"  said  Kemp,  "but 
the  sooner  we  get  to  work  on  the  motor  the  better. 
We'll  give  Mr.  Durland  a  corner  in  my  shop,  and  all 
the  help  he  needs;  I'll  call  up  the  superintendent  in 
the  morning  and  explain  what's  wanted." 

"It's  all  too  good  to  be  true!"  said  Grace. 
"Father's  such  a  dear,  patient,  gentle  soul  and  to  land 
something  now  will  mean  more  than  you  can  under- 
stand. Thank  you  so  much,  Tommy." 


284  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

She  walked  to  the  bed  and  took  Kemp's  hand. 

"I  suppose  your  father  would  rather  Cummings  had 
the  new  features  for  the  engine,"  he  said  drily. 

"Gracious  heavens,  no!"  Grace  exclaimed.  "Father 
would  cheerfully  die  in  the  poor  house  before  he'd 
let  Cummings  have  anything  of  his." 

"That's  the  spirit!  Ward,  don't  be  stingy  with  Mr. 
Durland.  Double  whatever  anybody  else  offers  for 
an  option  on  the  motor  improvements  and  we'll  hope 
it's  only  the  beginning." 

Ill 

Stephen  Durland  discussed  with  Grace  everything 
pertaining  to  his  new  connection  with  the  Kemp  con- 
cern. He  had  made  so  many  mistakes  in  his  life  that 
he  didn't  want  to  risk  making  any  more,  he  said 
pathetically  at  a  noon  hour  which  Grace  spent  with 
him  after  he  had  agreed  to  the  terms  Kemp  had  pro- 
posed through  Trenton. 

"A  thousand  dollars  just  for  an  option  looks  mighty 
big,"  he  said.  "I  never  expected  to  see  that  much 
money  again.  And  I'm  to  draw  two  hundred  a  month 
from  the  Kemp  Company  while  I'm  building  a  motor 
out  there.  It's  pretty  nice,  Grace." 

He  wanted  to  give  her  the  thousand  dollars  and 
any  income  he  might  derive  from  the  improved  motor 
as  compensation  for  what  he  felt  was  the  wrong  she 
had  suffered  through  his  inability  to  keep  her  in  col- 
lege. He  was  greatly  in  earnest  about  this  and  showed 
his  affection  for  her  in  a  shy  gentle  fashion  that 
touched  her  deeply.  She  laughed  him  into  accepting 
her  rejection  of  his  offer  and  overruled  his  decision 
not  to  tell  his  wife  and  Ethel  of  his  brightening  pros- 
pects. The  motor  might  not  stand  up  under  the  tests, 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  285 

he  said,  and  he  wished  to  avoid  the  necessity  of  con- 
fessing a  fresh  failure. 

"Don't  be  afraid;  I'll  see  that  you  don't  get  scolded! 
You  just  strut  around  the  house  and  make  the  most  of 
your  success — for  that's  what  it  is!  Mr.  Trenton 
told  me  he  was  sure  your  improvements  were  enor- 
mously important — greater  efficiency,  greater  economy 
of  operation  and  every  other  little  old  thing  you've 
thought  up  in  that  dear  bean  of  yours!" 

"Trenton's  a  fine  man.  He's  been  mighty  nice  to 
me,"  said  Durland.  "It's  a  pleasure  to  talk  to  a  man 
who  catches  an  idea  so  quick.  I  guess  Kemp  does 
pretty  much  what  he  says.  I  don't  know  Kemp.  I 
never  thought  of  it  till  after  the  break,  but  Cummings 
never  wanted  me  to  meet  other  manufacturers  in  our 
line.  Guess  he  didn't  trust  me,"  he  ended  with  a 
grim  smile.  "Afraid  I  might  get  away  from  him  be- 
fore he  was  sure  I'd  petered  out." 

"He  guessed  wrong,  daddy!  We'll  let  Cummings 
do  the  worrying  now." 

On  the  day  he  closed  his  shop  in  the  Power  Building 
and  moved  to  the  experimental  room  that  had  been 
fitted  up  for  him  at  Kemp's  big  plant  Durland  men- 
tioned his  new  prospects  at  the  supper  table.  He  made 
the  disclosure  so  slightingly  that  Mrs.  Durland  and 
Ethel,  who  had  been  busily  discussing  the  merits  of  a 
novel  they  had  been  reading  and  Ethel  thought  grossly 
immoral,  failed  to  catch  the  point  of  the  revelation  un- 
til he  had  cleared  his  throat  and  announced  for  a 
second  time  that  he  was  moving  out  to  Kemp's  to  do  a 
little  experimenting. 

"I  guess  that's  yours,  Allie,"  he  remarked,  produc- 
ing the  check.  "Got  it  for  an  option  on  a  patent  I've 
been  tinkering  at.  Trenton,  that  Pittsburg  expert, 
recommended  it  to  Kemp." 


286  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

"Trenton?"  repeated  Ethel,  carefully  scrutinizing 
the  Kemp  Manufacturing  Company's  check  before 
passing  it  on  to  her  mother. 

"Yes;  Ward  Trenton,"  Durland  replied  with  a  note 
of  pride  that  so  distinguished  an  engineer  had  recog- 
nized his  merits.  "He  keeps  track  of  everything  that 
goes  through  the  patent  office  for  clients  he's  got  all 
over  the  country.  I'm  going  to  build  some  of  my 
motors  at  Kemp's;  they've  given  me  a  lot  better  place 
to  work  in  than  I  used  to  have  at  Cummings's,  and  I'm 
going  to  have  all  the  help  I  want.  And  I'm  to  draw 
two  hundred  a  month  while  I'm  there.  I  guess  that's 
fair  enough." 

"This  is  your  friend,  Trenton,  is  it,  Grace?"  asked 
Ethel,  awed  into  respect  by  the  size  of  the  check. 

"The  same,"  Grace  replied,  carelessly  meeting 
Ethel's  gaze  across  the  table.  "He's  the  kindest  man 
imaginable.  You  can  hardly  complain  of  his  treat- 
ment of  father." 

"I've  always  believed  in  father,"  said  Ethel.  "I 
hope  Isaac  Cummings  will  see  in  this  a  retribution — 
God's  punishment  for  the  way  he  treated  father." 

"Let's  not  hand  out  the  retribution  to  Cummings 
till  Kemp's  satisfied  about  the  motor,"  suggested 
Grace. 

"We're  all  proud  of  you,  Stephen,"  said  Mrs.  Dur- 
land, smoothing  the  creases  in  the  check.  "I'm  writ- 
ing Roy  tonight  and  I'll  tell  him  the  good  news.  Of 
course  I'll  warn  him  not  to  speak  of  it.  Your  success 
will  be  a  great  incentive  to  the  dear  boy.  He  was  so 
contrite  over  his  behavior  while  he  was  home  that 
I'm  glad  to  have  this  news  for  him.  We  should  all 
feel  grateful.  Something  told  me  when  Isaac  Cum- 
mings turned  you  out  that  it  was  for  the  best.  I'll 
never  again  question  the  ways  of  Providence.  I  don't 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  287 

feel  like  taking  this  money,  Stephen,  but  it  will  come 
in  handy  in  giving  Roy  a  start." 

In  the  happier  spirit  that  now  dominated  the  home 
circle  Grace's  increasingly  frequent  absences  for 
evenings  and  occasionally  for  a  night  passed  with  little 
or  no  remark. 

"You've  got  to  live  your  life  in  your  own  way," 
Mrs.  Durland  would  say  with  a  sigh  when  she  found 
Grace  leaving  the  house  after  supper.  "I  hardly  see 
you  any  more." 

To  guard  against  awakening  in  Ethel's  mind  any 
suspicion  that  her  evenings  away  from  home  coincided 
with  Trenton's  presence  in  town,  which  her  father 
usually  mentioned,  Grace  made  a  point  of  going  out 
at  times  when  Trenton  was  away.  There  were  al- 
ways things  she  could  do — entertainments  among  the 
Shipley  employees,  dances,  theatre  parties  of  busi- 
ness girls  with  whom  she  had  become  acquainted. 
These  engagements  she  refrained  from  describing  with 
any  particularity  as  this  would  make  the  more  marked 
her  silence  on  evenings  when  she  went  to  Minnie  Law- 
ton's  to  meet  Trenton.  She  had  adopted  a  regular 
formula  when  she  left  the  house,  saying  merely,  "I'm 
going  out  for  a  little  while,"  which  her  mother  and 
Ethel  had  schooled  themselves  to  accept  as  an 
adequate  explanation  of  her  absences. 

Mrs.  Bob  Cummings  looked  in  on  her  one  day  at 
Shipley's  with  the  promised  invitation  to  dinner,  and 
to  go  to  a  club  dance  afterwards,  which  Grace  refused 
only  because  the  dramatic  club  of  Shipley  employees 
was  giving  a  play  the  same  night  and  she  had  a  lead- 
ing part.  And  Miss  Reynolds  dropped  in  to  the  ready- 
to-wear  department  frequently  when  she  was  down 
town  and  occasionally  asked  Grace  to  dinner. 

The  mild  winter  almost  imperceptibly  gave  way  be- 


288  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

fore  the  blithe  heralds  of  spring  and  April  appeared 
smiling  at  the  threshold. 

No  cloud  darkened  the  even  course  of  her  affair 
with  Trenton.  She  was  more  and  more  convinced 
of  the  depth  and  sincerity  of  her  love  for  him  and  he 
was  the  tenderest,  the  most  considerate  of  lovers. 
When  she  did  not  see  him,  sometimes  for  a  week  or 
fortnight,  his  messages  floated  back  with  those  con- 
stant reassurances  of  his  loyalty  and  affection  that 
are  the  very  food  of  love.  He  rarely  mentioned  his 
wife  in  their  talks  and  Grace  was  no  longer  a  prey  to 
jealousy.  She  wondered  sometimes  whether  he  had 
ever  broached  to  Mrs.  Trenton  the  matter  of  the 
divorce  at  which  he  had  hinted,  but  Grace  found  her- 
self caring  little  about  this  one  way  or  another.  She 
exulted  in  her  independence,  complacent  in  the  thought 
that  she  was  a  woman  of  the  Twentieth  Century,  free 
to  use  her  life  as  she  would. 

IV 

John  Moore  had  not  crossed  Grace's  vision  since  the 
afternoon  of  Christmas  day,  when  his  unexpected  ap- 
pearance in  the  highway  near  The  Shack  proved  so 
disconcerting.  She  suspected  that  he  was  avoiding  her, 
probably  from  a  generous  wish  to  spare  her  the  em- 
barrassment of  explaining  herself. 

When  she  left  Shipley's  at  the  closing  hour  of  a  day 
early  in  April  she  was  surprised  to  see  him  waiting  at 
the  door. 

"Good  evening,  Grace!  Hope  you  don't  mind  being 
held  up,  but  I  wanted  to  see  you  and  this  seemed  the 
easiest  way.  Got  time  to  walk  home?" 

Grace  had  meant  to  take  the  car  but  she  decided 
instantly  that  in  view  of  the  glimpse  he  had  got  of 


1  BROKEN  BARRIERS  289 

her  in  Trenton's  arms  on  the  memorable  day  at  The 
Shack  it  would  be  poor  diplomacy  to  refuse. 

"Of  course,  I'll  walk,  John,"  she  replied  cordially. 
"I've  been  wanting  to  see  you."  She  waited  till  they 
were  out  of  the  crowd,  then  said  with  a  preluding 
laugh: 

"You  must  be  thinking  the  awfulest  things  of  me, 
and  that's  why  you've  given  me  the  go-by.  That 
was  an  awful  fib  I  told  you  Christmas  about  going  to 
a  matinee.  The  truth  of  the  matter  was  that  I  had 
promised  to  go  with  some  people  into  the  country  for 
the  afternoon  and  didn't  want  the  family  to  know; 
and  I  couldn't  explain  over  the  telephone.  And  out 
there  we  all  got  to  cutting  up  and  well — you  saw  mel 
I'm  terribly  ashamed  of  myself!" 

"Oh,  pshaw,  you  needn't  be!  I  didn't  think  any- 
thing about  it.  I  always  know  you're  all  right.  I'm 
for  you,  Grace — you  know  that.  I've  been  so  busy 
since  I  moved  to  town  that  I've  kept  my  nose  right 
on  the  grindstone." 

His  words  lacked  the  usual  John  Moore  flavor,  and 
in  spite  of  his  protest  she  guiltily  attributed  his  un- 
usual restraint  to  reservations  as  to  the  Christmas 
day  episode.  But  his  next  speech  quickly  shifted  the 
ground  of  her  apprehensions. 

"I've  just  been  down  to  Bloomington  to  see  Roy," 
he  said,  doggedly  blurting  out  the  sentences.  "The  boy 
sent  for  me;  he'd  got  into  a  bad  scrape — about  a  girl. 
You  can  guess  the  rest  of  it." 

"Oh!"  she  gasped,  feeling  the  earth  whirling.  "Not 
that!" 

"Roy  was  in  a  blue  funk  and  threatened  to  run 
away  but  I  talked  him  out  of  that.  The  girl's  name  is 
Sadie  Den  ton;  she's  not  really  a  bad  girl.  I  had  a 
talk  with  her  and  went  down  to  Louisville  with  them 


290  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

yesterday  and  saw  them  married.  Her  folks  live  there 
and  they'll  look  out  for  her  till  Roy  finishes  at  the 
law  school.  I  guess  that's  about  all.  He  didn't  want 
any  of  you  to  know  about  it  just  yet;  but  I  sat  down  on 
that  and  he  agreed  I  should  tell  you.  I  was  sure  you'd 
handle  it  right  at  home." 

"Oh,  it  will  break  mother's  heart!  She's  counted 
everything  on  Roy." 

"Well,  everything  isn't  lost  yet,"  he  replied.  "I 
hope  you  think  I  did  right." 

"It  was  the  only  thing,  of  course,  John.  It  was  just 
like  you  to  see  it  straight  and  do  the  right  thing." 

She  wormed  from  him  the  fact  that  he  had  given 
Roy  a  hundred  dollars,  and  that  certain  payments  for 
the  support  of  Roy's  wife  had  been  agreed  on. 

"You're  certainly  a  friend,  John.  We'll  return  the 
money  at  once;  that's  the  least  we  can  do." 

When  he  protested  that  he  did  not  need  the  money 
immediately  she  explained  that  her  father's  affairs 
were  looking  brighter  and  that  the  return  of  the  sum 
advanced  would  work  no  hardship. 

The  bad  news  having  been  delivered,  Moore  exerted 
himself  to  cheer  her,  but  a  vast  gloom  had  settled  upon 
her.  As  he  shook  hands  at  the  gate  her  sense  of  his 
tolerance,  kindness  and  wisdom  brought  tears  to  her 
eyes  but,  left  alone,  her  only  emotion  was  one  of  fury 
against  Roy.  She  stood  on  the  door-step  pondering. 
Again,  as  after  Roy's  appeal  for  money  to  cover  his 
share  of  the  expense  of  his  automobile  escapade,  she 
thought  of  her  own  weakness  in  yielding  to  temptation. 
But  for  John's  advice  that  it  would  be  better  for  the 
rest  of  the  family  to  know  at  once  of  Roy's  tragedy — 
this  being  the  only  word  that  fitly  described  this  new 
and  discouraging  blight  upon  her  brother's  future — 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  291 

she  would  have  lacked  the  courage  to  communicate 
the  evil  tidings  to  the  household. 

It  was  not  until  they  had  all  settled  in  the  living 
room  after  supper  that  she  broke  the  news.  Her 
father  sat  at  the  table,  reading  a  technical  journal, 
with  Ethel  near  by  preparing  her  Sunday-school  les- 
son. Mrs.  Durland  had  established  herself  by  the 
grate  with  the  family  darning  in  her  lap.  Since  Dur- 
land's  removal  to  Kemp's  establishment  a  new  cheer 
and  hope  had  lightened  the  atmosphere  of  the  home, 
and  Grace,  moving  restlessly  about  the  room,  dreaded 
to  launch  her  thunderbolt  upon  the  tranquil  scene. 

"I  have  something  to  tell  you;  please  listen, — 
you  too,  father,"  she  began  quietly. 

She  used  much  the  same  blunt  phrases  in  which 
Moore  had  condensed  the  story,  watching  with  a  kind 
of  fascination  a  long  black  stocking  slip  from  her 
mother's  hand,  pause  at  her  knee  and  then  crawl  in 
a  slow  serpentine  fashion  down  her  apron  to  her  feet. 

uOh,  Roy!"  Mrs.  Durland  moaned,  her  face  white. 

Mr.  Durland  coughed,  took  off  his  glasses,  breathed 
on  the  lenses  and  began  slowly  rubbing  them  with 
the  corner  of  the  linen  table  cover.  He  desisted  sud- 
denly, remembering  that  Ethel  had  once  rebuked  him 
for  mussing  the  cover. 

"I  guess  that's  all  there  is  to  say  about  it,"  Grace 
concluded  when  she  had  told  everything,  not  omitting 
their  financial  obligation  to  Moore.  "We've  all  got 
to  make  the  best  of  it." 

Grace  picked  up  the  fallen  stocking  and  handed  it 
to  her  mother,  who  made  a  pretense  of  carefully  in- 
specting a  hole  in  the  heel. 

"What  time's  the  first  train  down  in  the  morning?" 
she  asked.  "I  must  see  Roy — and " 


292  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

Ethel,  who  had  sunk  back  helplessly  in  her  chair, 
jumped  to  her  feet,  her  eyes  blazing. 

"You  shan't  go  one  step  mother  1  It's  enough  that 
Roy's  brought  this  disgrace  on  the  family  without 
you  going  down  there  to  pet  him.  It's  your  spoiling 
him  that's  made  him  what  he  is.  John  Moore  had 
no  business  meddling  in  our  affairs.  What  Roy  should 
have  done  was  to  go  away  and  never  show  his  face 
to  any  of  us  again.  Father,  you  tell  mother  to  keep 
away  from  Roy!" 

The  appeal  to  Durland,  who  had  so  rarely  found 
himself  a  court  of  last  resort  in  the  whole  course  of  his 
life,  was  not  without  its  humor  and  Grace  smiled  bit- 
terly as  she  watched  her  sister,  who  stood  before  her, 
white,  her  lips  set  in  hard  lines,  her  hands  clenched 
at  her  sides.  Durland  cleared  his  throat  and  recrossed 
his  legs. 

"I  guess  your  mother'll  do  the  right  thing,  Ethel," 
he  said. 

"I  think  you're  all  crazy ! "  Ethel  flared.  "What  will 
Osgood  think  of  me,  with  my  brother  forced  to  marry  a 
girl  off  the  street." 

"I  didn't  say  she  was  off  the  street,"  Grace  corrected 
her.  "I'd  show  the  girl  a  little  mercy  if  I  were  you, 
and  I  wouldn't  make  it  any  harder  than  necessary  for 
father  and  mother.  You're  not  the  only  one  of  us 
who  has  feelings." 

"I'll  leave!  The  rest  of  you  may  do  as  you  please, 
but  I'll  not  let  Osgood  think  I  don't  feel  the  shame 
of  my  brother's  sin." 

"If  Osgood  reads  his  Testament  he  may  not  see  it 
in  quite  that  light." 

Ethel  breathed  hard  in  the  effort  to  think  of  some 
withering  retort.  The  best  she  could  do,  however, 
was  not  especially  brilliant. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  293 

"Osgood,"  she  announced  grandly,  "is  a  gentle- 
man!" 

"He  might  be  that  and  still  be  a  Christian,"  Grace 
replied  tartly. 

"What  did  you  say  about  trains,  Grace,"  asked  Mrs. 
Durland,  who,  deep  in  thought,  had  scarcely  heard 
the  colloquy  between  her  daughters. 

"I'll  call  the  station  and  find  out.  And  I'll  get 
Irene  on  the  'phone  and  tell  her  I  won't  be  at  the 
store  tomorrow.  I'm  going  with  you,  mother." 

"Irene!" 

Ethel  caught  up  and  flung  back  the  name  as  though 
it  were  some  hateful  and  obscene  thing. 

"Ethel,"  said  Mrs.  Durland  serenely,  "If  you've  got 
nothing  better  to  do  you  might  help  me  with  the  darn- 
ing. I  don't  like  to  go  away  without  clearing  it  up." 


The  visit  to  Bloomington  was  not  particularly  heart- 
ening. Roy  was  in  a  sullen  humor  when  they  talked 
to  him  in  the  hotel  parlor.  He  wanted  to  drop  the  law 
course  and  go  West,  and  they  argued  the  matter  most 
of  the  day,  Grace  alternating  between  despair  at  Roy's 
stubborn  indifference  to  every  attempt  to  arouse  his 
pride  and  ambition  and  admiration  for  her  mother's 
courage  and  forbearance  in  the  most  poignant  sorrow 
of  her  life. 

Grace  finally  left  them  together  and  took  a  walk  that 
led  her  far  from  the  campus.  She  had  no  heart  for 
looking  upon  the  familiar  scenes  or  meeting  the 
friends  she  had  left  there  only  a  few  months  earlier. 
When  she  returned  to  the  hotel  Roy  had  been  won  to 
a  more  tractable  humor;  and  when  he  left  them  it 
was  in  a  spirit  of  submission,  at  least,  to  what  he  con- 


294  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

sidered  an  ungenerous  ordering  of  fate.  Mrs.  Durland 
insisted  on  carrying  out  the  plan,  with  which  she  had 
left  Indianapolis,  of  visiting  the  young  woman  who 
was  now  her  daughter-in-law. 

"She's  Roy's  wife,"  she  said  when  Grace  tried  to 
dissuade  her.  "I'll  feel  better  to  see  her.  And  it's 
only  right  I  should." 

She  took  the  train  for  Louisville  and  Grace  went 
home. 

Grace's  thoughts  were  given  a  new  direction  early 
the  next  morning  when  Miss  Beulah  Reynolds  ap- 
peared at  Shipley's  shortly  after  the  doors  were 
opened. 

"My  dear  child,  the  most  astounding  thing  has  hap- 
pened!" the  little  woman  declared  immediately. 

"Your  house  hasn't  burned  down!"  exclaimed 
Grace,  amused  by  the  little  woman's  agitation. 

"Worse!  I'm  to  have  a  visitor, — that  Mary  Gra- 
ham Trenton  whose  book  we  once  talked  about.  I've 
just  had  a  letter  from  an  old  friend  in  Boston  warning 
me  of  the  lady's  approach,  and  asking  me  to  see  the 
Indians  don't  get  her.  I've  wired  her  at  Cleveland 
asking  her  to  stay  at  my  house — I  could  hardly  do 
less." 

"I  suppose  not,"  said  Grace  faintly,  wondering  why 
Miss  Reynolds  had  come  to  her  with  the  news. 

"I'm  asking  some  people  to  dinner  the  night  the 
lady  lectures — Tuesday — and  I  want  you  to  come. 
Don't  look  so  scared!  She  may  not  be  as  terrible  as 
she  writes  but  I'm  going  to  invite  Dr.  Ridgely,  and 
my  doctor  and  my  lawyer  with  the  hope  that  they'll  all 
get  a  shock.  And  I  want  you  to  come;  you've  read 
her  stuff,  and  I'll  count  on  you  to  help  keep  the  talk 
going." 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  295 

"Why,  I  don't  know — "  Grace  began,  her  mind  in 
a  whirl  of  conjecture. 

"Come!  That's  a  dear  child.  Don't  go  back  on  me; 
I  need  your  moral  support.  At  six  thirty,  then?  We 
have  to  dine  early  on  account  of  the  lecture." 

"Why,  yes;  Miss  Reynolds,"  Grace  answered 
faintly. 

"By  the  little  pink  ear  of  Venus!"  exclaimed  Irene, 
coming  upon  Grace  just  as  Miss  Reynolds  left.  "What's 
Little  Old  Ready  Money  done  to  you?" 

"Nothing,"  Grace  replied,  her  mind  still  in  con- 
fusion. "She  was  just  asking  me  to  dinner." 

"From  your  looks  I'd  have  guessed  it  was  a  funeral," 
Irene  replied,  and  Grace,  pulling  herself  together,  hur- 
ried away  to  meet  an  approaching  customer. 

Of  late  she  had  given  little  thought  to  Mrs.  Trenton, 
and  it  had  never  occurred  to  her  in  her  wildest  dreams 
that  she  might  meet  Ward's  wife  in  the  intimate  con- 
tact of  a  dinner  table.  The  prospect  kept  her  in  a 
state  of  excitement  all  day  and  at  times  she  was 
strongly  impelled  to  trump  up  some  excuse  for  re- 
fusing to  go  to  Miss  Reynolds's.  But  her  earlier  curi- 
osity as  to  what  manner  of  woman  it  was  who  bore 
Ward  Trenton's  name  was  rekindled  by  the  thought 
of  meeting  her.  Trenton  was  in  Syracuse  and  might 
not  reach  Indianapolis  for  a  week  or  more.  He  had 
said  that  he  had  not,  in  the  letter  he  had  written 
to  Mrs.  Trenton  from  St.  Louis,  revealed  the  identity 
of  the  woman  who  had  so  strongly  appealed  to  him. 
Mrs.  Trenton  would  hardly  suspect  that  a  girl  she 
met  at  a  dinner  party  was  the  person  her  husband 
had  described  only  vaguely  and  without  indicating 
her  habitat. 

Grace  decided  against  writing  Trenton  of  the  im- 


296  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

pending  meeting  till  it  was  over.  Having  quieted  her 
apprehensions  she  began  dramatizing  the  scene  at 
Miss  Reynolds's  table  and  she  reread  "Clues  to  a 
New  Social  Order"  against  the  possibility  that  Mrs. 
Trenton's  book  might  become  a  subject  of  discus- 
sion at  the  dinner.  The  thought  of  seeing  her  lover's 
wife  in  this  fashion  while  she  herself  remained  un- 
known and  unsuspected  laid  powerful  hold  upon  her 
imagination. 


THE  calamity  that  had  befallen  Roy  cast  a  shadow 
upon  the  Durland  household.  Ethel  stalked  about 
with  an  insufferable  air  of  outraged  innocence.  Roy 
had  ruined  the  family;  after  all  the  sacrifices  that 
had  been  made  for  him  he  had  flung  away  his  chance 
and  was  lost  beyond  redemption.  She  was  merciless 
in  her  denunciation  of  her  brother,  and  hardly  less 
severe  upon  her  mother  for  spoiling  Roy  and  con- 
doning his  sin. 

Grace  exerted  herself  to  the  utmost  to  dispel  the 
gloom.  Not  since  her  young  girlhood  had  she  felt 
so  closely  drawn  to  her  mother,  and  she  endeavored 
by  every  possible  means  to  lighten  her  burdens.  Mrs. 
Durland's  attempts  to  make  the  best  of  Roy's  pre- 
dicament, even  professing  to  see  in  what  she  called  the 
boy's  new  responsibilities  a  steadying  force  that  would 
evoke  his  best  efforts,  were  pathetic;  but  Grace  en- 
couraged all  these  hopes  though  in  her  heart  she  was 
far  from  optimistic  as  to  her  brother's  future. 

"Sadie  isn't  really  a  bad  girl,"  Mrs.  Durland  had  re- 
ported on  her  return  from  Louisville.  Her  family 
are  not  just  what  we  would  have  wanted,  but  they 
are  respectable  and  we  ought  to  be  grateful  for  that. 
Her  father  is  employed  in  the  railroad  shops  and 
they  own  their  own  home.  Sadie's  an  only  child  and 
it  wasn't  necessary  for  her  to  go  to  work,  but  she  was 
restless  and  didn't  want  to  stay  at  home.  There's 
a  lot  of  that  spirit  among  girls  these  days.  Sadie's 
really  fond  of  Roy  and  I  think  she  understands  that 

297 


293  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

now  she  must  help  him  to  make  a  man  of  himself. 
She  and  her  mother  appreciated  our  kindness  and  I 
think,  Ethel,  when  you  see  Sadie " 

"When  I  see  Sadie!"  cried  Ethel,  choking  at  the 
name.  "You  don't  mean  to  say  you're  going  to  bring 
her  to  this  house!" 

"Not  now,  of  course;  she  wouldn't  want  to  come. 
But  in  time  we'll  all  know  her.  You  must  remember 
Ethel  that  she's  one  of  the  family,  your  brother's 
wife,  and  no  matter  how  much  we  may  regret  the 
whole  thing,  we've  got  to  stand  by  her  just  as  we 
stand  by  Roy." 

"I  don't  understand  you,  mother;  I  don't  under- 
stand you  at  all!  It  isn't  like  you  to  pass  over  a  thing 
like  this,  that's  brought  shame  and  disgrace  on  the 
family.  And  to  think — to  think — "  she  cried  hys- 
terically— "that  you  even  consider  bringing  the 
shameless  creature  here  to  this  house,  with  all  its 
sacred  associations  that  mean  something  to  me  if  they 
don't  to  the  rest  of  you!" 

"That's  right,  Ethel,"  said  Grace  ironically.  "It's 
perfectly  grand  of  you  to  defend  the  family  altar! 
I  suppose  when  Sadie  comes  you'll  be  for  throwing 
her  into  the  street  and  stoning  her  to  death.  And 
you'd  be  the  only  one  who  could  cast  the  first  stone!" 

"Please  be  quiet,  girls,"  Mrs.  Durland  pleaded.  "It 
doesn't  help  any  to  fuss  about  things.  You  haven't 
taken  this  as  I  hoped  you  would,  Ethel.  If  we  don't 
stand  together  and  help  each  other  the  family  tie 
doesn't  amount  to  much.  I  had  hoped  you  were  going 
to  feel  better  about  Roy.  We  simply  mustn't  let  the 
dear  boy  think  that  just  one  misstep  has  ruined  his 
life.  We  must  try  to  believe  that  everything  is  for 
the  best." 

"Certainly,  mother,"  said  Grace.    "That's  the  only 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  299 

way  to  look  at  it.    Ethel  doesn't  mean  to  trouble  you. 
She'll  come  round  all  right." 

Ethel  failed  to  confirm  this  sanguine  prediction. 
She  continued  to  sulk  and  when  her  mother  proposed 
plans  for  assisting  Roy  when  he  finished  at  the  law 
school  she  contributed  to  the  discussion  only  the  direst 
predictions  of  disaster. 

"We  all  have  a  lot  to  be  thankful  for,"  Mrs.  Dur- 
land  insisted.  "It's  a  blessing  your  father's  going  to 
be  in  a  position  to  help  Roy.  The  first  year  will  be 
the  hardest  for  the  boy,  but  after  that  he  ought  to  be 
able  to  stand  on  his  own  feet.  I've  about  decided  that 
it  would  be  better  for  him  to  open  an  office  for  him- 
self right  away  and  not  go  in  with  any  one  else.  The 
more  independent  he  feels  the  better.  We  must  see 
what  we  can  do  about  that." 

"I  think  we'd  better  talk  it  all  over  with  John  Moore 
before  we  decide  about  anything,"  Grace  suggested. 
"He  knows  all  about  Roy  and  certainly  has  shown 
himself  a  good  friend." 

"John  Moore  1"  sniffed  Ethel,  who  had  not  for- 
given John  for  meddling  in  Roy's  affairs. 

"I  hope  you  love  yourself,  Ethel;  you  certainly 
don't  love  anybody  else."  Grace  remarked,  and 
added,  "Oh,  yes,  there's  Osgood!  I  forgot  that  you're 
concentrating  your  affections  on  him." 

"I'm  not  afraid  to  see  him  at  home;  that's  more 
than  you  do  with  the  men  you  run  around  withl" 

"Oh,  I  wouldn't  dare  introduce  my  friends  to  you; 
you  might  vamp  them  away  from  me!" 

"Now  girls !" 

Mrs.  Durland  sighed  heavily;  Mr.  Durland,  intent 
upon  some  computations  he  was  making  at  the  living 
room  table,  stirred  uneasily.  Grace  had  not  been  un- 
mindful of  the  fact  that  after  his  first  fortnight  at 


300  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

Kemp's  the  elation  with  which  he  had  undertaken  his 
new  labors  had  passed.  He  was  now  constructing  an 
engine  embodying  his  improvements  on  the  Cum- 
mings-Durland  motor  and  came  home  at  night  haggard 
and  preoccupied.  He  seemed  to  resent  inquiries  as 
to  his  progress  and  after  the  first  week  Mrs.  Durland, 
on  a  hint  from  Grace,  ceased  troubling  him  with  ques- 
tions. Grace  nerself  was  wondering  whether,  after 
all,  the  ideas  that  had  attracted  Trenton's  attention 
in  her  father's  patent  claims  might  not  fail  to  realize 
what  was  hoped  of  them.  But  her  faith  in  Trenton's 
judgment  was  boundless;  with  his  long  experience  it 
was  hardly  possible  that  he  could  be  deceived  or  that 
he  would  encourage  expectations  that  might  not  be 
realized  by  the  most  exacting  tests. 

Grace  had  not  changed  her  mind  about  going  to 
Miss  Reynolds's  dinner,  though  at  times  she  had  all 
but  reconsidered  her  decision  not  to  tell  Trenton  of 
the  invitation.  There  was  really  no  reason  why  she 
should  not  let  him  know  of  his  wife's  impending  visit 
to  Indianapolis;  what  really  stayed  her  hand  when 
she  considered  mentioning  the  matter  in  one  of  her 
letters  was  a  fear  that  he  might  advise  her  against 
going.  Her  curiosity  as  to  Ward  Trenton's  wife  was 
acute  and  outweighed  any  fear  of  his  possible  dis- 
pleasure when  he  learned — and  of  course  Grace 
meant  to  tell  him — that  she  had  deliberately  put  her- 
self in  Mrs.  Trenton's  way. 

II 

On  Saturday  evening  the  delivery  of  a  gown  she  had 
picked  out  of  Shipley's  stock  to  wear  to  the  dinner 
made  it  necessary  to  explain  why  she  had  purchased 
it.  It  was  the  simplest  of  dinner  gowns  which  she 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  301 

drew  from  the  box  and  held  up  for  her  mother's  and 
Ethel's  inspection. 

"What  earthly  use  can  you  have  for  that,  Grace?" 
Ethel  demanded. 

Grace  laid  it  across  her  mother's  knees  and  Mrs. 
Durland  took  a  fold  in  her  fingers  to  appraise  the 
material. 

"It's  certainly  pretty.  This  is  one  of  the  new  shades, 
isn't  it,  Grace?  It  isn't  blue  exactly " 

"They  call  it  hydrangea  blue,  mother.  Please 
hurry  and  say  I'll  look  scrumptious  in  it!" 

"I  don't  think  I'd  have  chosen  just  that,"  remarked 
Ethel  putting  down  a  handkerchief  she  was  embroider- 
ing, in  flourishing  script  with  the  initials  O.  H.,  to 
eye  the  garment  critically.  "If  I  were  in  your  place 
and  could  afford  to  spend  what  that  must  have  cost  I 
think  I'd  have  got  something  in  one  of  the  more 
definite  shades.  You  can't  really  say  whether  that's 
blue  or  pink." 

"That's  the  artistic  part  of  it,  old  dear,"  replied 
Grace  amiably.  "It's  out  of  the  new  spring  stock  and 
considered  very  smart.  Wake  up,  daddy!  Tell  me 
you  don't  think  I'm  stung!" 

"I  guess  my  views  about  dresses  wouldn't  help  you 
much,  Grace,"  Durland  remarked,  glancing  at  the 
gown  absently  and  returning  to  his  interminable  cal- 
culations. 

"You'll  look  sweet  in  it,  Grace,"  Mrs.  Durland  vol- 
unteered. "You  think  it  isn't  cut  too  low?" 

"It's  the  very  latest  model,  mother.  I  don't  believe 
you'll  think  it  too  low  when  you  see  me  in  it.  I  tried 
it  on  at  my  lunch  hour  yesterday  and  a  customer  got 
her  eye  on  it  and  did  her  best  to  coax  me  to  let  her 
have  it.  But  I  sold  her  another  gown  that  cost  twenty 
dollars  more,  so  Shipley's  didn't  lose  anything." 


302  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

"You  get  so  many  clothes,  Grace,"  Ethel  inter- 
rupted again  intent  upon  her  embroidery.  "I  don't 
just  see  what  you  can  want  with  a  dress  like  that." 

"Oh,  this  is  for  a  special  occasion.  Miss  Reynolds 
has  asked  me  to  dinner  Tuesday.  She's  entertaining 
for  Mrs.  Mary  Graham  Trenton,  who's  to  lecture  here 
that  night." 

"You  don't  mean  it!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Durland.  "I 
read  in  the  paper  that  Mrs.  Trenton  was  to  speak 
here.  I'd  never  have  thought  of  connecting  her  with 
Miss  Reynolds!" 

"They've  never  met,  I  think.  A  friend  of  Miss 
Reynolds's  in  Boston  wrote  and  asked  her  to  see  that 
Mrs.  Trenton  was  properly  looked  after,  so  she's  put- 
ting her  up  and  pulling  off  a  dinner  in  her  honor.  I 
might  say  that  she  didn't  appear  to  be  awfully  keen 
about  it.  She's  asking  Dr.  Ridgely  and  Judge  Sanders 
and  Dr.  Loomis  with  their  ladies,  so  theology,  law 
and  medicine  will  be  represented.  She  asked  me,  I 
suppose,  because  I  happened  to  mention  to  her  once 
that  I  had  read  Mrs.  Trenton's  'Clues  to  a  New  Social 
Order.'  And  it  may  be  in  her  mind  that  as  a  poor 
working  girl  I  represent  the  proletariat." 

"She  may  have  thought  that  being  a  friend  of  Mr. 
Trenton's  it  would  be  pleasant  for  Mrs.  Trenton  to 
meet  you,"  said  Ethel  sweetly. 

"Thank  you,  sister,  you're  certainly  the  little  mind 
reader,"  Grace  replied. 

"I'm  sure  it's  very  kind  of  Miss  Reynolds  to  ask 
you,"  remarked  Mrs.  Durland  hastily,  fearing  a  clash 
between  the  sisters.  "There  are  no  finer  people  in 
town  than  the  Sanders  and  I  have  always  heard  splen- 
did things  about  Dr.  Loomis  and  his  wife.  It's  a 
privilege  to  meet  people  like  that.  I  hope  you  realize 
that  a  woman  of  Miss  Reynolds's  position  can  have 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  303 

her  pick  of  the  town.  She's  certainly  paying  you  a 
great  compliment,  Grace." 

"I  don't  understand  Miss  Reynolds  at  all,"  said 
Ethel.  "She's  the  last  woman  in  the  world  you'd 
think  would  take  a  creature  like  Mary  Graham  Tren- 
ton into  her  house." 

"It's  because  she  is  Miss  Reynolds  that  she  can  do 
as  she  pleases,"  replied  Mrs.  Durland  conciliatingly. 
"And  as  she  was  asked  by  a  friend  to  show  some 
courtesy  to  Mrs.  Trenton,  she  isn't  doing  any  more 
than  any  one  else  would  do  in  the  same  circumstances. 
As  I  said  when  Grace  first  spoke  of  meeting  Mr.  Tren- 
ton, his  wife's  a  dangerous  woman.  It's  in  her  power 
to  do  a  great  deal  of  mischief  in  the  world.  I  don't 
believe  Miss  Reynolds  has  any  patience  with  Mrs. 
Trenton's  ideas,  and  it  can't  do  Grace  any  harm  to 
meet  her.  You  ought  to  be  glad,  Ethel,  that  Miss 
Reynolds  feels  that  Grace  would  fit  into  a  select  party 
like  that." 

"I'll  be  surprised  if  Dr.  Ridgely  goes  to  the  din- 
ner," replied  Ethel.  "That  woman  is  fighting  every- 
thing the  church  stands  for.  If  I  had  my  way  she 
wouldn't  be  allowed  to  speak  here." 

"That's  no  joke!"  replied  Grace  good-naturedly. 
"But  there  are  people,  you  know,  who  are  not  afraid 
of  hearing  radical  ideas — a  few  broad-minded  people 
who  think  it  safer  to  let  the  cranks  talk  out  in  the 
open  than  to  drive  them  into  a  cellar  to  touch  off  the 
gentle  bomb." 

"Many  people  feel  just  that  way,  Ethel,"  said  Mrs. 
Durland. 

Mrs.  Durland's  disapproval  of  Mrs.  Trenton  and 
the  ideas  identified  with  that  lady's  name  was  much 
softened  by  the  fact  that  Grace  was  to  be  included  in 
a  formal  dinner  which  Miss  Reynolds  had  undoubtedly 


304  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

arranged  with  care.  And  while  Mary  Graham  Tren- 
ton might  entertain  and  preach  the  most  shocking 
ideas  she  was  nevertheless  one  of  the  best  known 
and  most  discussed  women  in  America,  besides  being 
the  inheritor  of  wealth  and  social  position.  Miss  Rey- 
nolds's  marked  liking  for  Grace  afforded  Mrs.  Durland 
a  satisfaction  not  wholly  attributable  to  veneration  for 
Miss  Reynolds's  money  or  unassailable  position  as  a 
member  of  a  pioneer  Indianapolis  family.  Grace's 
unaccountable  ways  and  her  assertions  of  inde- 
pendence often  brought  alarm  and  dismay  to  the 
mother's  heart;  but  Grace  was  indubitably  lovely  to 
look  at  and  the  fine  spirit  in  which  she  had  accepted 
and  met  the  curtailment  of  her  course  at  the  uni- 
versity excused  many  things.  Grace  had  wits  and  she 
would  go  far,  but  the  traveling  would  have  to  be  on 
broad  highways  of  her  own  choosing.  It  was  not  with- 
out twinges  of  heartache  that  Mrs.  Durland  realized 
that  this  dark-eyed  daughter  was  peculiarly  a  child  of 
the  new  order;  that  not  by  prayer,  threat  or  cajolery 
could  she  be  made  to  walk  in  old  paths  or  heed  the  old 
admonitions.  But  there  had  been  Morleys  who 
were  independent  and  forthright  and  Miss  Reynolds's 
invitation  implied  a  recognition  of  Grace  as  a  well-bred 
and  intelligent  girl. 

Mrs.  Durland,  busily  sewing,  had  been  giving  Grace 
such  information  as  she  possessed  about  the  Sanderses, 
who  were  to  be  of  Miss  Reynolds's  company.  Hardly 
less  than  the  sons  and  daughters  of  Virginia  and  Ken- 
tucky, Mrs.  Durland  was  possessed  of  a  vast  amount 
of  lore  touching  the  families  of  her  native  state.  Mrs. 
Sanders  was  a  Shelton  of  the  old  Bartholomew  County 
family  of  that  name.  Some  Shelton  had  once  been 
engaged  in  business  with  a  Morley  who  was  a  second 
cousin  of  Mrs.  Durland.  It  was  a  tannery  she  thought, 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  305 

though  it  might  have  been  a  brickyard.  And  San- 
ders's  father  had  been  a  prominent  citizen  somewhere 
on  the  lower  Wabash  and  had  married  into  the  Alston 
family  of  Vanderburgh  County.  Grace  lent  a  sympa- 
thetic ear  to  this  recital  of  ancient  Hoosier  history 
chiefly  because  her  mother  found  so  great  a  pleasure 
in  reciting  it.  It  was  the  crudest  of  ironies  that  her 
mother,  with  all  her  adoration  of  the  State  and  its 
traditions  and  her  constant  recurrence  to  the  past 
glories  of  the  Morleys,  lived  a  life  of  self-denial  apart 
from  contemporaries  capable  of  sharing  her  pride  and 
pleasure  in  the  old  times. 

The  talk  had  wandered  far  from  Grace's  dinner 
engagement  when  Ethel,  who  had  been  quietly  plying 
her  needle,  took  advantage  of  a  lull  to  switch  it  back. 

"I  suppose  you  won't  feel  quite  like  a  stranger  with 
Mrs.  Trenton,"  she  suggested.  "Mr.  Trenton  has  no 
doubt  told  his  wife  of  his  acquaintance  with  you." 

"No  doubt  he  has,"  Grace  replied  calmly.  "In  fact 
he  told  me  he  had  written  her  about  me." 

This  was  not  wholly  candid;  Trenton  had  only  said 
that  he  had  written  to  his  wife,  pursuant  to  an  un- 
derstanding between  them,  that  he  had  met  a  girl 
who  greatly  interested  him.  But  Ethel's  remark  occa- 
sioned Grace  a  moment  of  discomfort.  In  her  last 
meeting  with  Trenton  his  wife  had  not  been  men- 
tioned, but  it  was  possible  that  by  now  he  had  made 
a  complete  confession  of  his  unfaithfulness.  Irene 
Kirby  had  frequently  commented  upon  Trenton's 
frankness;  Grace  chilled  at  the  thought  that  he  might 
already  have  told  his  story  to  Mrs.  Trenton  in  the  hope 
of  hastening  the  day  of  his  freedom. 

The  newspapers  were  devoting  much  space  to  Mrs. 
Trenton's  impending  visit.  On  Saturday  and  Sunday 
her  portrait  adorned  the  society  pages,  accompanied  by 


306  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

sketches  of  her  life  and  activities  in  the  feminist  cause 
that  did  full  justice  to  her  distinguished  ancestry  and 
high  social  connections.  In  the  Durland  home  Mrs. 
Trenton  continued  to  be  a  fruitful  subject  of  discus- 
sion. There  were  things  which  Ethel  thought  should 
be  said  to  Mrs.  Trenton.  She  even  considered  asking 
Dr.  Ridgely  to  say  them, — a  proposition  which  Grace 
derided  and  Mrs.  Durland  did  not  encourage.  Ethel 
was  further  inspired  with  the  idea  that  a  committee 
of  the  best  women  of  the  city  should  wait  upon  Mrs. 
Trenton  and  try  to  convince  her  of  the  dangerous 
character  of  the  doctrines  she  was  advocating. 

"You're  taking  it  altogether  too  seriously,"  said 
Grace.  "I  don't  suppose  that  woman's  ever  made  a 
single  convert.  About  so  many  people  have  always 
held  her  ideas — about  marriage  and  things  like  that. 
The  real  radicals  probably  look  on  her  as  a  huge  joke. 
A  woman  who  visits  at  Newport  and  goes  cruising  on 
yachts  doesn't  just  put  herself  clear  outside  the  social 
breastworks.  There  are  other  women  besides  Mrs. 
Trenton  who  talk  free  love  and  birth  control  and 
things  like  that  just  for  the  excitement  and  the  atten- 
tion they  get." 

"They  should  be  locked  up,  every  one  of  them!" 
Ethel  declared.  "I'm  ashamed  for  our  city  that  she 
can  come  here  and  be  received  by  people  you'd  expect 
better  things  of,  and  be  allowed  to  speak.  The  police 
should  stop  it!" 

"Well,  she  can't  ruin  the  town  with  one  lecture," 
Grace  replied  good-naturedly.  "The  Twentieth  Cen- 
tury Club  brings  all  sorts  of  lunatics  here  and  the 
members  are  about  the  most  conservative  people  in 
town.  You  couldn't  change  the  minds  of  any  of  them 
any  more  than  you  could  knock  over  the  soldiers' 
monument  with  a  feather  duster." 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  307 

III 

Grace  got  excused  from  the  store  at  five  o'clock  on 
Tuesday  to  give  herself  ample  time  to  prepare  for  the 
dinner. 

"That's  the  prettiest  gown  you  ever  wore,  dear," 
Mrs.  Durland  exclaimed  when  Grace  was  fully  ar* 
rayed.  "I'm  glad  you  didn't  have  your  hair  marcelled; 
that  little  natural  wave  is  prettier  than  anything  the 
hairdresser  could  do.  Carried  straight  away  from 
your  forehead  as  you've  got  it  gives  just  the  right 
effect.  I  guess  Miss  Reynolds  needn't  be  ashamed 
of  you.  You've  got  the  look  of  breeding,  Grace;  no- 
body could  fail  to  see  that.  Just  be  careful  not  to 
talk  too  much,  not  even  if  Mrs.  Trenton  says  brash 
things  you  feel  like  disputing  with  her.  And  if  you 
get  a  chance  to  speak  to  Judge  Sanders  without  ap- 
pearing to  drag  it  in  you  might  say  you're  the  great- 
granddaughter  of  Josiah  B.  Morley.  Little  things  like 
that  do  count,  you  know." 

"Yes,  of  course,"  Grace  assented,  as  she  studied 
the  hang  of  her  skirt  before  the  mirror. 

Ethel  came  in  and  seated  herself  on  the  bed  to 
watch  Grace's  preparations.  Osgood  Haley  had 
walked  home  with  her  and  she  was  in  the  mood  of  sub- 
dued exaltation  to  which  the  young  man's  company 
frequently  brought  her.  She  apologized  to  her  mother 
for  being  late;  she  and  Osgood  had  prolonged  the 
walk  by  taking  a  turn  in  the  park  but  she  would  make 
up  to  her  for  the  delay  by  doing  all  of  the  supper 
work. 

"That  dress  really  is  becoming  to  you,  Grace,"  she 
said  in  a  fervor  of  magnanimity.  "It  sets  you  off 
beautifully.  You  must  tell  us  all  about  the  party.  I 
hope  you  won't  let  anything  I  said  about  Mrs.  Trenton 


308  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

spoil  the  evening  for  you.  You  know  I'm  always  glad 
when  any  happiness  comes  to  you." 

"Thank  you,  Ethel;  I  guess  I'll  live  through  the 
ordeal,"  said  Grace  from  her  dressing  table  where  she 
had  seated  herself  to  administer  the  final  touches  to 
her  toilet.  Zealous  to  be  of  service,  Ethel  and  her 
mother  watched  her  attentively,  offering  suggestions 
to  which  Grace  in  her  absorption  murmured  replies  or 
ignored.  Ethel  brought  from  her  room  a  prized  lace- 
bordered  handkerchief  which  she  insisted  that  Grace 
should  carry.  Her  generosity  was  spoiled  somewhat 
by  the  self-sacrificing  air  with  which  it  was  tendered. 
To  help  others  was  really  the  great  joy  of  life,  Ethel 
quoted  Haley  as  saying,  adding  that  she  constantly 
marveled  at  Osgood's  clear  vision  of  the  true  way  of 
life.  Grace  accepted  the  handkerchief,  with  difficulty 
concealing  a  smile  at  the  change  in  Ethel  wrought  by 
Haley's  talk. 

The  car  Miss  Reynolds  had  sent  was  at  the  door  and 
Mrs.  Durland  and  Ethel  went  down  to  see  Grace  off. 
They  gave  her  a  final  looking  over  before  helping  her 
into  her  coat.  The  veil  she  had  drawn  over  her  head 
required  readjustment;  it  was  a  serious  question 
whether  there  was  not  an  infinitesimal  spot  on  one  of 
her  slippers. 

"Oh,  they've  got  to  take  me  as  I  am!"  said  Grace, 
finally.  "There  isn't  time  to  dress  all  over  again." 

"I'll  wait  up  for  you,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Durland. 
"I'll  be  anxious  to  know  all  about  the  dinner." 

Grace  was  again  torn  by  doubts  as  the  car  bore  her 
swiftly  toward  Miss  Reynolds's.  She  tried  to  convince 
herself  that  she  was  not  in  the  least  interested  in  Mrs. 
Trenton;  that  she  was  no  more  concerned  with  her 
than  she  would  have  been  with  any  other  woman  she 
might  meet  in  the  house  of  a  friend.  But  these  at- 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  309 

tempts  to  minimize  her  curiosity  as  to  Trenton's  wife 
failed  miserably.  It  was  impossible  to  think  of  the 
meeting  with  her  lover's  wife  as  a  trifling  incident. 
The  newspaper  portraits  of  Mrs.  Trenton  rose  vividly 
before  her  and  added  to  her  discomfort.  She  feared 
that  she  might  in  some  way  betray  herself.  When 
the  car  stopped  she  felt  strongly  impelled  to  postpone 
her  entrance  in  the  hope  of  quieting  herself  by  walking 
round  the  block;  but  to  be  late  to  a  dinner  was,  she 
knew,  an  unpardonable  sin.  Summoning  all  her  cour- 
age she  ran  up  the  walk  to  the  door,  which  opened  be- 
fore she  could  ring. 

"First  room  to  the  right  upstairs,"  said  the  colored 
butler. 

The  white  maid  helped  her  off  with  her  wrap  and 
stood  by  watching  her  with  frank  admiration  as  she 
surveyed  herself  before  a  long  mirror.  In  Grace's 
perturbed  state  of  mind  the  presence  of  the  girl  was 
a  comfort. 

"Do  I  look  all  right?"  she  asked. 

"You  look  lovely,  Miss;  just  like  a  beautiful  pic- 
ture." 

"Oh,  thank  you!"  said  Grace,  smiling  gratefully  into 
the  girl's  eyes.  "Am  I  very  late?" 

"No,  Miss,  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Ridgely  haven't  come 
yet." 

A  clock  on  the  mantle  began  striking  the  half  hour 
as  Grace  left  the  room.  She  went  down  slowly  with 
a  curious  sense  of  being  an  unbidden  guest  in  a  strange 
house. 

From  the  stair  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  man  in 
evening  dress  in  the  room  below.  She  had  attended 
few  functions  in  her  life  where  men  wore  evening 
dress  and  the  staring  expanse  of  shirt  front  intensified 
her  sense  of  breathing  an  alien  atmosphere. 


310  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

As  she  stood  in  the  drawing  room  doorway  the 
figures  within  dimmed  and  she  put  out  her  hand  to 
steady  herself.  Then  the  wavering  mists  that  blurred 
her  vision  cleared  as  Miss  Reynolds  came  quickly 
forward  and  caught  her  hands. 

"My  dear  child,  I  didn't  hear  you  come  down! 
I'm  glad  to  see  you,— even  relieved  I"  she  added  in  a 
whisper.  "How  perfectly  adorable  you  are!"  Grace 
had  not  dared  lift  her  eyes  to  the  group  of  guests 
who  stood  across  the  room  talking  animatedly,  and 
as  Miss  Reynolds,  with  her  arm  about  Grace's  waist, 
moved  toward  them  she  was  arrested  by  a  young  man 
who  had  just  entered  and  stood  waiting  to  present 
himself. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Atwood!  Miss  Durland,  Mr.  Atwood." 
Jimmie  Atwood  put  out  his  hand,  smiling  joyfully. 

"Good  luck,  I  call  this!  It's  perfectly  bully  to 
meet  you  again,  Miss  Durland." 

"You  two  are  acquainted?"  Miss  Reynolds  ex- 
claimed delightedly.  "That's  splendid,  for  you're  to 
take  Miss  Durland  in." 

"Mr.  Atwood's  equal  to  the  most  difficult  situa- 
tions," said  Grace,  meeting  his  eyes,  which  were  re- 
sponding to  the  mirth  in  her  own  as  both  recalled  the 
night  they  had  met  at  McGovern's. 

"Ah!  You  have  a  secret  of  some  kind!"  said  Miss 
Reynolds.  "Far  be  it  from  me  to  intrude  but  you've 
got  to  meet  the  other  guests." 

Jimmie  Atwood's  appearance  had  lessened  the  ten- 
sion for  Grace  and  quite  composedly  she  found  her- 
self confronting  a  tall  slender  woman  who  stepped 
forward  to  meet  the  newcomers. 

"Mrs.  Trenton,  Miss  Durland — and  Mr.  Atwood." 

Mrs.  Trenton  gave  each  a  quick  little  nod,  murmur- 
ing: 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  311 

"I'm  very  glad,  indeed." 

The  Ridgelys  at  this  moment  arrived  followed  by 
two  unattached  men.  Townsend,  a  young  physician 
who  was  looked  upon  as  a  coming  man,  and  Pro- 
fessor Grayling,  whose  courses  in  sociology  Grace 
had  taken  at  the  University.  He  was,  she  learned,  a 
remote  connection  of  Miss  Reynolds's  and  had  been 
summoned  from  Bloomington  to  add  to  the  represen- 
tative character  of  the  company. 

"Why  didn't  you  ever  tell  me  you  knew  Miss  Rey- 
nolds?" Grayling  demanded,  as  he  and  Grace  were 
left  to  themselves  for  a  moment  during  the  progress 
of  further  introductions. 

"Oh,  I  didn't  meet  her  till  after  I  left  college.  I 
know  why  you're  invited;  you're  here  to  do  the 
heavy  high-brow  work!  I  remember  that  you  once 
expressed  views  on  the  writings  of  the  guest  of  honor." 

"Did  I?  If  I  become  quarrelsome  tonight  throw  a 
plate  or  something  at  me."  Grace  had  always  ad- 
mired Grayling;  he  was  saying  now  that  she  had  been 
his  star  student  and  that  he  missed  her  from  his 
classes. 

"I'd  really  counted  on  making  you  an  instructor  in 
my  department  but  you  left  without  saying  good-bye; 
and  here  I  find  you  launched  upon  a  high  social 
career — it's  a  distinct  loss  to  social  science!" 

"If  you  knew  just  where  and  how  I  met  Miss  Rey- 
nolds you  wouldn't  think  me  in  danger  of  becoming 
a  social  butterfly!"  laughed  Grace,  her  assurance 
mounting.  Grayling  was  smiling  quizzically  into  her 
eyes;  he  would  never  know  how  grateful  she  was  for 
these  few  minutes  with  him.  The  rest  of  the  com- 
pany were  grouped  about  Mrs.  Trenton,  who  had 
lately  been  in  Washington  and  was  expressing  her 


312  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

opinions,  which  were  not  apparently  complimentary, 
of  the  public  men  she  had  met  there. 

"I'm  Number  Eighteen  at  Shipley's,"  said  Grace, 
finding  that  Grayling  was  giving  her  his  complete  at- 
tention.  "Miss  Reynolds  was  my  first  customer." 

"Ah!"  he  exclaimed.  "You're  collecting  data!  I 
see  it  all!  There  will  be  a  treatise,  perhaps  a  large 
tome,  on  your  experiences  in  the  haunts  of  trade. 
Perhaps  you'll  allow  me  to  write  the  preface.  We 
thought  down  at  the  University  you'd  got  tired  of  us, 
but  I  see  that  you'd  grown  beyond  our  feeble  aid.  I'm 
infinitely  relieved ! " 

"Stop  kidding  me!"  said  Grace,  glancing  about  to 
make  sure  they  were  not  overheard.  "I'm  a  shop  girl, 
trying  to  earn  an  honest  living." 
1  Atwood  came  up  as  dinner  was  announced  and  when 
they  reached  the  table  Grace  found  that  Grayling 
was  to  sit  at  her  left.  Mrs.  Trenton's  place  was  a 
little  to  her  right  on  the  further  side,  an  arrangement 
that  made  it  possible  for  Grace  to  observe  her  with- 
out falling  within  the  direct  line  of  her  vision. 

Grace,  turning  to  Atwood,  who  frankly  declared  his 
purpose  to  monopolize  her,  found  it  possible  to  study 
at  leisure  the  woman  about  whom  she  had  so  con- 
stantly speculated.  Mrs.  Trenton  was,  she  surmised, 
nearly  the  forty  years  to  which  Trenton  himself  con- 
fessed and  there  was  in  her  large  gray-blue  eyes 
something  of  the  look  of  weariness  to  be  found  in  the 
eyes  of  people  who  live  upon  excitement  and  sensa- 
tion. Her  hair  had  a  reddish  tinge  and  the  gray  had 
begun  to  show  in  it.  She  bore  every  mark  which  to 
a  sophisticated  feminine  inspection  announces  that  a 
woman  has  a  particular  care  for  her  appearance.  She 
gave  an  impression  of  smoothness  and  finish.  She 
wore  a  string  of  pearls  and  on  her  left  hand  a  large 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  313 

pearl  set  in  diamonds,  but  no  wedding  ring,  a  fact 
which  Grace  interpreted  as  signifying  that  in  this 
fashion  the  author  of  "Clues  to  a  New  Social  Order," 
let  the  world  know  her  indifference  to  the  traditional 
symbol  by  which  womankind  advertise  their  married 
state.  She  found  herself  wondering  whether  Ward 
Trenton  had  given  his  wife  the  necklace  or  the  ring 
with  the  diamond-encircled  pearl.  Mrs.  Trenton's 
gown  had  the  metropolitan  accent;  it  was  the  product 
unmistakably  of  one  of  those  ultra  smart  New  York 
dressmakers  whose  advertisements  Grace  had  noted 
from  time  to  time  in  magazines  for  women. 

Mrs.  Trenton  had  entered  into  a  discussion  with 
Dr.  Ridgely  of  the  industrial  conditions  created  by  the 
war;  and  she  was  repeating  what  some  diplomat  had 
said  to  her  at  a  dinner  in  Washington.  Her  head  and 
shoulders  moved  almost  constantly  as  she  talked,  and 
her  hands  seemed  never  idle,  playing  with  her  beads 
or  fingering  a  spoon  she  had  unconsciously  chosen  as 
a  plaything.  She  laughed  frequently,  a  quick,  nervous, 
mirthless  little  laugh,  while  her  eyes  stared  vacantly, 
as  though  she  were  not  fully  conscious  of  what  she 
said  or  what  was  being  said  to  her.  She  spoke  crisply, 
with  the  effect  of  biting  off  her  words.  Grace  was  in- 
terested in  her  mastery  of  the  broad  a,  which  western 
folk  profess  to  scorn  but  nevertheless  envy  in  pilgrims 
from  the  fabled  East.  Her  voice  and  enunciation  re- 
minded Grace  of  the  speech  an  English  woman  who 
had  once  lectured  at  the  University. 

"Oh,  that!" 

This  was  evidently  a  pet  expression,  uttered  with  a 
shrug  and  a  lifting  of  the  brows.  It  meant  much  or 
nothing  as  the  hearer  chose  to  take  it.  Grace  had 
read  much  about  the  neurotic  American  woman  and 
Mrs.  Trenton  undoubtedly  expressed  the  type.  It  was 


314  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

difficult  to  think  of  her  as  Ward  Trenton's  wife.  The 
two  were  irreconcilably  different.  Grace's  mind 
wearied  in  the  attempt  to  correlate  them,  but  she 
gained  ease  as  the  moments  sped  by.  By  the  time 
the  meat  course  was  served  the  talk  had  become  gen- 
eral. Everyone  wished  to  hear  Mrs.  Trenton  and  she 
met  in  a  fashion  of  her  own  the  questions  that  were 
directed  at  her.  Evidently  she  was  used  to  being  ques- 
tioned and  she  answered  indifferently,  some  times  dis- 
dainfully, or  turned  the  question  upon  the  inquirer. 

AtwOod  was  exerting  himself  to  hold  Grace's  at- 
tention. He  had  never  heard  of  Mary  Graham  Tren- 
ton till  Miss  Reynolds's  invitation  sent  him  to  the 
newspapers  for  information.  He  was  not  sure  now 
that  he  knew  just  how  she  came  to  be  a  celebrity  and 
with  Grace  beside  him  he  didn't  care. 

"I've  been  wild  to  see  you  ever  since  that  night  we 
put  on  the  little  sketch  at  Mac's,"  he  said  confidingly. 
"You  were  perfectly  grand;  never  saw  a  finer  piece  of 
good  sportsmanship.  I  met  Evelyn  the  next  day  and 
we've  talked  about  it  ever  since  when  we've  been  alone. 
But  old  Bob  is  certainly  sore !  He's  really  a  good  fel- 
low, you  know;  but  he  was  off  his  game  that  night. 
You  scored  big  with  Evelyn.  She  was  really  hurt 
when  you  refused  her  invitation  to  dinner.  I  was  to 
be  in  the  party — begged  for  an  invitation;  I  swear  I 
did!  Please  let  me  pull  a  party  pretty  soon — say  at 
the  Country  Club,  and  ask  the  Cummingses.  Really 
I'm  respectable!  I've  got  regular  parents  and  aunts 
and  everything." 

"We'll  have  to  consider  that.  Please  listen;  this  is 
growing  interesting." 

"My  point,  Mrs.  Trenton,"  Professor  Grayling  was 
saying,  "is  just  this:  Your  reform  programme  only 
touches  the  top  of  the  social  structure  without  regard 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  315 

to  the  foundation  and  the  intermediate  framework. 
In  your  'Clues  to  a  New  Social  Order'  you  consider 
how  things  might  be — a  happy  state  of  things  if  the 
transition  could  be  effected  suddenly.  Granting  that 
what  you  would  accomplish  is  desirable  or  essential 
to  the  general  happiness  of  mankind,  we  can't  just 
pick  out  the  few  things  we  are  particularly  interested 
in  and  set  them  up  alone.  They'd  be  sure  to  topple 
over." 

"Oh,  that!"  Mrs.  Trenton  replied;  and  then  as 
though  aware  that  something  more  was  expected  of 
her  she  went  on:  "But  a  lot  of  changes  have  come 
in — in  what  you  scientific  economists  would  call  the 
less  important  things.  Just  now  I'm  laying  stress  on 
an  equal  wage  for  men  and  women  for  the  same  labor. 
That  I  think  more  important  than  such  things  as  more 
liberal  divorce  laws,  though  I  favor  both.  As  to  di- 
vorce"— she  gave  her  characteristic  shrug, — "we  all 
know  that  more  liberal  laws  came  as  the  result  of 
changing  conditions — the  new  attitude  toward  mar- 
riage and  all  that.  We're  in  the  midst  of  a  tremendous 
social  evolution." 

"May  I  come  in  right  here  for  a  moment,  Mrs. 
Trenton?"  asked  Dr.  Ridgely.  "You  plead  in  your 
book  for  a  change  of  existing  laws  to  make  marriage 
dissoluble  at  the  will  or  whim  of  the  contracting 
parties;  children  to  be  turned  over  to  the  State — a 
direct  blow  at  the  family.  Do  you  really  think  that 
desirable?"  he  ended  smilingly. 

"Dear  me!  That  idea  didn't  originate  with  me," 
she  replied.  "I  merely  went  into  it  a  little  more 
concretely  perhaps." 

Again,  her  curious  vacant  stare,  followed  in  an  in- 
stant by  a  gesture,  the  slightest  lifting  and  closing 
of  one  of  her  graceful  hands  as  though  her  thoughts, 


316  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

having  ranged  infinity,  had  brought  back  something 
it  was  not  necessary  in  her  immediate  surroundings  to 
disclose. 

"But,"  the  minister  insisted,  "would  such  a  solu- 
tion be  wise?  Do  you,  honestly,  think  it  desirable?" 

"It's  coming;  it's  inevitable!"  she  answered  quickly. 

"How  many  women  can  you  imagine  driving  up  to 
a  big  barracks  and  checking  their  babies?  How  strong 
is  the  maternal  instinct?"  asked  Judge  Sanders. 

"Most  mothers  don't  know  how  to  care  for  their 
children,"  said  Mrs.  Trenton,  bending  forward  to 
glance  at  the  speaker.  Sanders  was  a  big  man  with 
a  great  shock  of  iron-gray  hair.  He  was  regarding 
Mrs.  Trenton  with  the  bland  smile  that  witnesses  al- 
ways found  disconcerting. 

"Well,  that  may  be  true,"  he  said,  "but  the  poor 
old  human  race  has  survived  their  ignorance  a  mighty 
long  time." 

The  laughter  at  this  retort  was  scattering  and  tem- 
pered by  the  obvious  fact  that  Mrs.  Trenton  was  not 
wholly  pleased  by  it. 

Jimmie  Atwood  was  hoping  that  there  would  be  a 
row.  A  row  among  high-brows  would  be  something  to 
talk  about  when  he  went  to  the  University  Club  the 
next  day  for  lunch  and  an  afternoon  of  sniff. 

"The  idea  is,  I  take  it,"  he  said  with  his  funny 
squeak,  "that  there  would  be  no  aunts  or  in-laws;  just 
plain  absolute  freedom  for  everybody.  Large  marble 
orphan  asylums  all  over  the  country.  Spanking  ma- 
chines and  everything  scientific!" 

"You've  got  exactly  the  right  idea,"  cried  Mrs. 
Trenton. 

"Clubs  for  women  and  clubs  for  men;  everybody 
would  live  in  a  club.  That  would  be  jolly!"  Atwood 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  317 

continued,  delighted  that  he  had  gained  the  attention 
of  the  guest  of  honor. 

"Has  anybody  here,"  began  Grayling,  "ever  watched 
a  bunch  of  college  boys  listening  to  a  phonograph 
record  of  Patti  singing  'Home,  Sweet  Home?'  Well,  I 
have  and  you  could  cut  the  gloom  with  a  knife.  Home 
is  still  sweet  to  most  of  us." 

"I'd  be  awfully  sorry  to  miss  the  weddings  we  have 
at  the  parsonage,"  said  Mrs.  Ridgely; — "trusting 
young  souls  who  pop  in  at  all  hours  to  be  married. 
They're  all  sure  they're  going  to  live  happy  forever 
after.  Miss  Durland,  it's  your  generation  that's  got 
to  solve  the  problem.  Maybe  you  have  the  answer." 

"Oh,  I  think  weddings  are  beautiful!"  Grace  an- 
swered, feeling  the  eyes  of  the  company  upon  her. 
The  girlish  ardor  she  threw  into  her  words  won  her  a 
laugh  of  sympathy. 

"Don't  let  them  intimidate  you,"  said  Mrs.  Trenton 
with  an  indulgent  smile.  "Miss  Reynolds  has  been 
telling  me  that  you're  a  University  girl  and  you  ought 
to  be  sound  on  the  great  questions  if  Professor  Gray- 
ling hasn't  spoiled  you!" 

"No  one  could  spoil  Grace,"  Grayling  protested. 

Grace  pondered,  anxious  for  Miss  Reynolds's  sake 
to  say  nothing  stupid.  She  was  the  youngest  member 
of  the  company;  they  were  merely  trying  in  a  friendly 
spirit  to  bring  her  into  the  talk  and  no  wise  deliverance 
would  be  expected  of  her. 

"I  wouldn't  dare  speak  for  all  my  generation," 
she  said,  "but  something  has  occurred  to  me.  Our 
elders  scold  us  too  much!  It  isn't  at  all  pleasant  to 
be  told  that  we're  terribly  wicked;  that  we  haven't 
any  of  the  fine  qualities  of  our  parents  and  grand- 
parents. We  hear  nothing  except  how  times  have 


318  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

changed;  well,  we  didn't  change  them!  I  positively 
refuse  to  be  held  responsible  for  changing  anything! 
I  took  the  world  just  as  I  found  it." 

She  had  spoken  quickly,  with  the  ring  of  honest 
protest  in  her  voice,  and  she  was  abashed  when  Judge 
Sanders  clapped  his  hands  in  approval. 

"That's  the  truest  word  I've  heard  on  that  sub- 
ject," he  said  heartily.  "The  responsibility  is  on  us 
old  folks  if  our  children  are  not  orderly,  disciplined, 
useful  members  of  society." 

"I'm  afraid  you're  right,"  added  Dr.  Ridgely. 

"Aren't  you  the  Miss  Durland  that  John  Moore 
talks  about?"  Mrs.  Sanders  asked.  "I  thought  so! 
Isn't  John  a  wonderful  fellow?  Since  he  went  into 
Mr.  Sanders's  office  we've  seen  him  a  good  deal  at 
our  house.  He's  so  simple  and  honest  and  gives  prom- 
ise of  great  things." 

"I'm  very  stupid,"  said  Sanders;  "I  didn't  realize 
that  I  had  met  the  paragon  Moore  brags  about  so 
much;  but  I  might  have  known  it!" 

He  began  describing  Moore,  and  told  the  whole  table 
how,  as  trustee  of  the  University,  he  had  become 
acquainted  with  the  young  man  and  was  so  struck  by 
his  fine  qualities  that  he  had  taken  him  into  his  office. 
He  related  some  of  the  familiar  anecdotes  of  Moore 
and  called  upon  Grace  for  others.  Grace  told  her 
stories  well,  wholly  forgetting  herself  in  her  en- 
thusiasm. Suddenly  her  gaze  fell  upon  Mrs.  Trenton, 
whose  lips  were  parted  in  a  smile  of  well-bred  inatten- 
tion. Grace  became  confused,  stammered,  cut  short  a 
story  she  was  telling  illustrative  of  John's  kindness 
to  a  negro  student  whom  he  had  nursed  through  a  long 
illness.  Apparently  neither  John  nor  his  philanthropic 
impulses  interested  the  author  of  "Clues  to  a  New  So- 
cial Order";  or  she  was  irritated  at  being  obliged  to  re- 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  319 

linquish  first  place  at  the  table.  Miss  Reynolds,  quick 
to  note  the  bored  look  on  her  guest's  face,  tactfully 
brought  her  again  into  the  foreground.  Grace  was 
startled  a  moment  later,  when,  as  the  talk  again  be- 
came general,  Sanders  remarked: 

"I  believe  I've  met  your  husband,  Mrs.  Trenton. 
He's  a  friend  of  Mr.  Thomas  Kemp,  one  of  our  prin- 
cipal manufacturers." 

"Yes?"  she  replied  carelessly.  "I  think  I've  heard 
Mr.  Trenton  speak  of  an  Indianapolis  client  of  that 
name.  He  visits  your  city  I  know,  on  professional 
employments.  Indeed  his  business  keeps  him  in 
motion  most  of  the  time;  but  I  can't  complain;  I'm  a 
good  deal  of  a  gad-about  myself!  I  wired  for  Mr. 
Trenton's  address  to  his  New  York  office  the  other 
day,  hoping  I  might  be  able  to  see  him  somewhere. 
It's  possible  he  may  turn  up  here.  There's  a  case  for 
you,  Dr.  Ridgely!  The  reason  my  marriage  is  so  suc- 
cessful is  because  of  the  broad  freedom  Mr.  Trenton 
and  I  allow  each  other.  We  haven't  met  since — 
Heaven  knows  when!" 

A  slight  hint  of  bravado  in  her  tone  suggested  an 
anxiety  to  establish  herself  in  the  minds  of  the  com- 
pany as  the  possessor  of  a  wider  freedom  and  a  nobler 
tolerance  than  other  wives.  The  other  wives  at  the 
table  were  obviously  embarrassed  if  not  displeased 
by  her  declaration.  It  seemed  to  Grace  that  the  air 
of  the  room  chilled  preceptibly. 

She  found  herself  resenting  Mrs.  Trenton's  manner 
of  speaking  of  her  husband.  Trenton,  she  remem- 
bered, had  always  spoken  of  his  wife  in  kind  terms. 
On  the  evening  of  their  first  meeting  at  The  Shack 
he  had  chivalrously  taken  upon  himself  the  responsi- 
bility for  the  failure  of  his  marriage.  He  had  spoken 
of  Mrs.  Trenton  as  a  charming  woman,  but  Grace 


320  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

thought  her  singularly  charmless.  She  was  at  no  pains 
to  make  herself  agreeable  to  the  company  Miss  Rey- 
nolds had  assembled  in  her  honor.  One  thing  was 
clear  and  Grace  derived  a  deep  satisfaction  from  the 
reflection, — Mrs.  Trenton  not  only  didn't  love  her  hus- 
band, but  she  was  incapable  of  loving  any  one  but 
herself.  Grace,  having  accepted  the  invitation  to  meet 
Mrs.  Trenton  with  a  sense  that  there  was  something 
a  little  brazen  in  her  going  when  Miss  Reynolds  be- 
lieved her  to  be  a  clean-hearted,  high-minded  girl,  in 
bitterness  of  spirit  yielded  to  a  mood  of  defiance. 
This  woman  had  no  right  to  be  a  burden  and  a 
hindrance  to  the  man  she  had  married.  It  was  her 
fault  if  he  found  in  another  the  love  and  the  compan- 
ionship she  had  denied  or  was  incapable  of  giving 
him. 

IV 

The  Twentieth  Century  Club  had  made  the  occasion 
a  guest  night  and  the  hall  was  well  filled  when  Miss 
Reynolds's  party  arrived.  Places  had  been  reserved 
for  them  near  the  platform  but  Grace  slipped  into  a 
seat  by  the  door  with  Atwood  and  Grayling. 

"Thank  you  for  this!"  exclaimed  Atwood.  "I  al- 
ways sleep  at  lectures  and  I  won't  be  so  conspicuous 
back  here." 

Mrs.  Trenton,  introduced  by  the  president  as  one  of 
the  foremost  women  of  her  time,  laid  a  sheaf  of  notes 
on  the  reading  desk  and  began  her  address.  Her  sub- 
ject was  "Woman's  New  Freedom,"  and  she  sum- 
marized the  long  struggle  for  suffrage  before  indicat- 
ing the  questions  to  which  women  should  now  devote 
themselves  to  complete  their  victory.  She  recited  the 
familiar  arguments  against  child  labor  and  thought 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  321 

existing  laws  should  be  extended  and  strengthened; 
and  she  pleaded  for  equal  pay  for  equal  work  for 
women.  She  advocated  uniform  marriage  and  divorce 
laws  on  a  basis  of  the  widest  freedom.  There  was  no 
slavery  so  hideous  as  that  of  marriages  where  the  tie 
becomes  irksome.  She  favored  birth  control  on  the 
ground  that  a  woman  is  entitled  to  be  the  judge  of  her 
fitness  and  ability  to  bear  and  raise  children.  She 
advocated  state  maternity  hospitals  with  provision  for 
the  care  of  all  children  by  the  state  where  parents 
lack  the  means  or  the  intelligence  to  rear  them.  She 
was  not  a  socialist,  she  protested,  though  there  were 
many  socialistic  ideas  which  she  believed  could  profit- 
ably be  adopted  under  the  present  form  of  govern- 
ment. Her  "Clues  to  a  New  Social  Order,"  she  ex- 
plained, contemplated  the  fullest  recognition  of  the 
rights  of  the  individual.  She  expressed  her  impatience 
of  the  multiplication  of  laws  to  make  mankind  better ; 
the  widest  liberty  was  essential  to  all  progress. 

Grace  had  listened  with  the  strictest  attention. 
Once  or  twice  Grayling  whispered  some  comment  and 
Atwood,  deeply  bored,  inquired  midway  of  the  address 
whether  the  first  inning  wasn't  nearly  over.  At  the 
conclusion  the  president,  following  the  club's  custom, 
said  that  Mrs.  Trenton  would  be  glad  to  answer  any 
questions,  but  the  only  person  who  took  advantage  of 
the  invitation  was  an  elderly  gentleman  who  asked 
Mrs.  Trenton  whether  she  didn't  think  the  Eighteenth 
Amendment  marked  a  great  moral  advance  for  the 
nation. 

"On  the  contrary,  a  decided  retreat,"  Mrs.  Trenton 
replied,  so  incisively  that  the  meeting  closed  amid  gen- 
eral laughter. 

"Was  it  the  event  of  a  life-time?"  Atwood  asked 
Grayling. 


322  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

"Old  stuff!  Miss  Durland  could  have  taken  the 
lady's  material  and  made  a  better  story  of  it." 

"A  doubtful  compliment!"  said  Grace.  "Come 
along;  we  must  say  good-night  to  Miss  Reynolds." 

They  went  forward  to  where  the  other  guests  stood 
waiting  while  the  club  president  introduced  to  Mrs. 
Trenton  such  of  the  members  as  wished  to  meet  her. 

"Don't  forget  that  I'm  taking  you  home,"  said  At- 
wood.  "That's  my  reward  for  coming." 

Grace  had  hoped  to  avoid  speaking  to  Mrs.  Trenton 
again  but  as  Miss  Reynolds's  other  guests  were  bid- 
ding her  good-night  she  couldn't  very  well  escape  it. 

"Ah,  you  stayed  to  the  bitter  end!"  Mrs.  Trenton 
exclaimed  with  a  forced  brightening  of  her  face.  The 
hand  she  gave  Grace  was  cold,  and  the  look  of  weari- 
ness in  her  eyes  was  intensified.  "I  wish  we  might 
have  you  as  a  convert.  No  hope,  I  suppose?" 

She  turned  away  with  a  smile  to  greet  the  next  in 
line. 

"It  wasn't  so  shocking  after  all,"  remarked  Miss 
Reynolds,  as  Grace  bade  her  good-night.  "I'll  always 
remember  this,  Grace.  You  helped  a  lot — you'd  have 
helped  a  lot  even  if  you  hadn't  said  a  word!  I  was  so 
proud  of  you,  dear." 

When  she  reached  home  Grace  found  her  mother 
and  Ethel  waiting  up  for  her  and  she  sat  down  in  the 
living  room  to  recount  the  events  of  the  evening. 
Mrs.  Trenton,  she  said,  was  not  so  terrible;  she  dis- 
missed her  lightly  and  concentrated  upon  the  other 
guests  at  the  dinner.  She  was  at  pains  to  give  the 
impression  that  she  had  thoroughly  enjoyed  herself, 
particularly  her  meeting  with  Professor  Grayling.  The 
fact,  carelessly  mentioned,  that  Jimmie  Atwood  had 
brought  her  home  immediately  obscured  everything 
else.  Mrs.  Durland  wished  to  be  sure  that  Jimmie 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  323 

was  the  son  of  the  George  Rogers  Atwood  who  had 
made  a  fortune  in  the  stove  business;  Ethel  thought 
he  was  only  a  nephew  and  that  Jimmie's  father 
operated  coal  mines  somewhere  near  Terre  Haute. 
Grace,  unable  to  assist  in  determining  this  momentous 
matter,  left  them  and  sought  the  seclusion  of  her  room. 
As  she  closed  the  door  she  was  oppressed  by  an 
overmastering  fatigue;  she  felt  that  innumerable, 
mocking,  menancing  hands  were  plucking  at  her.  The 
jealousy  that  had  assailed  her  fitfully  all  evening  now 
tore  at  her  heart.  A  vast  loneliness,  as  of  some  bleak 
unhorizoned  waste,  settled  upon  her.  She  locked  her 
door  and  spread  out  on  her  dressing  table  the  sheets  of 
Trenton's  last  letter,  which  had  reached  her  that 
morning,  and  read  them  over  as  she  brushed  her  hair. 

.  .  .  and  there  is  no  hour  in  which  I  do  not  think 
of  you.  The  thought  of  you  is  like  a  prayer  in  my 
heart.  You  have  touched  the  best  in  me.  I  rebel 
against  the  fate  that  keeps  me  from  you.  Sometimes 
it  becomes  intolerable — I  want  you  so  much,  now — 
just  to  see  your  .face,  to  look  into  your  eyes,  to  touch 
your  hand.  You  are  the  flower  of  all  the  world,  I 
think,  and  quick  upon  that  comes  a  sense  that  you 
have  greatness  in  you;  that  you  are  stronger  than  I 
am — possess  a  truer  and  broader  sense  of  the  meaning 
of  life.  .  . 

Her  deep  sigh  as  she  finished  became  a  sob  and 
she  laid  her  head  upon  her  arms  and  the  tears  came. 
It  was  possible  that  he  had  written  just  such  letters 
to  the  woman  who  was  still  his  wife;  that  once  he 
had  found  in  her  this  same  exaltation. 

But  these  thoughts  she  fought  and  conquered.  As 
she  moved  slowly  about  her  room  with  its  dingy  old- 
fashioned  furniture,  its  odds  and  ends  of  memorabilia 
— her  high  school  diploma,  framed;  a  University  pen- 


324  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

nant  hung  over  the  mahogany  bed, — she  slipped  back 
into  her  youth  and  her  heart  went  out  to  Trenton  with 
a  child-like  faith  and  confidence.  The  remembrance 
of  him  as  he  had  held  her  and  kissed  her;  his  tender- 
ness, the  wistfulness  with  which  he  regarded  her  at 
times,  his  fine  considerateness,  the  utter  lack  of  any- 
thing common  or  coarse  in  him — these  memories 
wrought  peace  in  her  heart. 

Ready  for  bed,  she  huddled  inside  the  window 
draperies  before  opening  her  window,  gazing  up  at  the 
stars.  The  same  bright  orbs  shone  over  him,  where- 
ever  he  was.  Perhaps  at  that  very  moment,  he,  in 
the  manner  of  lovers  from  time  immemorial,  was 
invoking  their  council  as  he  thought  of  her. 

"I  love  you!  I  love  you,  dear!"  she  whispered  and 
repeated  the  words,  finding  in  them  strength  and 
solace. 

She  unlocked  the  door  and  got  into  bed  just  as  her 
mother  entered. 

"Are  you  all  right,  Grace?"  Mrs.  Durland  asked. 
She  stooped  and  picked  up  Grace's  party  slippers  from, 
the  middle  of  the  floor  and  put  them  away  in  the 
closet. 

"Yes,  I'm  fine,  mother,"  Grace  answered.  "Please 
don't  bother  about  my  things.  I'll  straighten  up  in  the 
morning." 

"All  right,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Durland.  "I'll  put  your 
dress  on  a  hanger  in  the  sewing  room  and  press  the 
skirt  out  tomorrow.  It's  mussed  a  little,  I  noticed." 

With  the  gown  over  her  arm  she  walked  to  the  bed. 

"Are  you  happy,  dear?"  she  asked,  laying  her  hand 
for  a  moment  on  the  girl's  forehead. 

"Yes,  mother.    Thank  you  so  much  for  coming  in!" 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  325 

With  an  access  of  emotion  she  sat  up  and  flung  her 
arms  about  her  mother's  neck  and  kissed  her. 

"You  are  happy,  Grace?"  Mrs.  Durland  repeated 
solicitously. 

"Yes,  mother;  very  happy." 


THE  morning  paper's  account  of  Mrs.  Trenton's  lec- 
ture came  in  for  discussion  at  the  breakfast  table  and 
Mrs.  Durland  read  aloud  the  society  column's  report 
of  Miss  Reynolds's  dinner.  The  names  of  the  guests 
were  not  given,  an  omission  which  Mrs.  Durland 
thought  singular,  but  which  evoked  from  Ethel  the 
comment  that  the  people  who  had  countenanced  Mrs. 
Trenton  merely  to  please  Miss  Reynolds  probably 
had  asked  to  have  their  names  suppressed.  Durland, 
deprived  of  his  paper,  which  Mrs.  Durland  and  Ethel 
were  clinging  to  in  violation  of  his  long-established 
rights,  asked  Grace  whether  Trenton  was  in  town. 

"Mrs.  Trenton  said  she  had  hoped  to  see  him  here, 
but  I  don't  know  anything  about  it,  daddy,"  she  re- 
plied carelessly,  though  the  possibility  of  Trenton's 
coming  to  Indianapolis  in  response  to  his  wife's  sum- 
mons was  now  uppermost  in  her  thoughts. 

She  eagerly  opened  the  letter  from  him  which 
awaited  her  at  the  store.  It  was  a  hasty  lead-pencil 
scrawl  and  said  that  he  was  leaving  that  night  for 
Indianapolis  to  see  Mrs.  Trenton,  who  was  lecturing 
there  and  had  asked  for  a  meeting.  The  summons  was 
most  inopportune  as  his  work  in  Syracuse  was  not 
completed  and  it  would  be  necessary  for  him  to  return 
as  quickly  as  possible.  "But  I'll  see  you,  of  course, 
if  only  for  a  moment,"  he  concluded. 

The  note  served  only  to  revive  with  keener  malev- 
olence the  jealousy  that  she  had  vanquished  the 

326 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  327 

previous  night.  Trenton  had  never  written  so 
brusquely  before;  perhaps  his  wife's  demand  for  an 
interview  had  alarmed  him.  She  stabbed  herself  with 
the  thought  that  this  woman  had  the  right  to  demand 
interviews  with  him  whenever  she  pleased. 

In  the  search  for  consolation  she  asked  Irene  to  go 
to  lunch  with  her.  To  her  relief,  Irene,  having  al- 
ready formed  at  long  range  her  opinion  of  Mrs.  Tren- 
ton, asked  only  a  few  questions  about  the  dinner. 

"Having  seen  Mary  you  will  understand  Ward  bet- 
ter," Irene  remarked,  after  her  curiosity  had  been  sat- 
isfied as  to  what  the  women  wore  and  she  had  sug- 
gested that  the  meeting  with  Atwood  under  Miss  Rey- 
nolds's  roof  might  lead  to  something. 

"Ward's  coming  here  to  see  her;  he  may  be  in  town 
now,"  said  Grace,  not  in  the  least  interested  in  At- 
wood. "She  told  us  at  dinner  she  hadn't  seen  her 
husband  for  she  didn't  know  how  long  and  had  been 
wiring  to  try  to  locate  him.  What  do  you  make  of 
that,  Irene?  Do  you  suppose " 

"I'd  suppose  nothing!  You  can't  tell  what  women 
of  that  sort  think  or  what  they'll  do.  But  you  can  be 
pretty  sure  they'll  do  something  foolish  every  chance 
they  get.  Don't  you  worry  about  her;  you  can  trust 
Ward  to  take  care  of  you  no  matter  what  her  ladyship 
knows  or  guesses  about  him.  If  Ward  loves  you  as  I 
think  he  does  he'll  go  clear  down  the  line  for  you." 

"Do  you  think  that, — do  you  really  mean  that," 
asked  Grace  tremulously. 

"Of  course  I  mean  it!  Look  here,  my  dear!  See- 
ing that  woman  has  made  you  nervous.  If  you'd 
asked  my  advice  in  advance  I'd  have  told  you  not  to 
go.  But  now  that  you  went  and  gone  and  done  it  the 
sooner  you  forget  the  whole  business  the  better." 

"Irene,  I  simply  had  to  go!     I  was  simply  dying 


328  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

of  curiosity  and  jealousy.  Can't  you  understand  that? 
You  needn't  tell  me  I  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  myself 
for  going;  I  know  well  enough  I  ought  to  be." 

"Cut  it  out,  old  dear!  I'd  probably  have  done  the 
same  thing  myself  if  I'd  been  in  your  place.  Why, 
Grace,  the  first  time  Mrs.  Kemp  appeared  on  my  floor 
after  I  began  playing  around  with  Tommy,  I  nearly 
broke  my  neck  to  wait  on  her.  You  ought  to  feel  bet- 
ter now  you've  seen  the  woman.  I  heard  some  of  our 
valued  customers  talking  about  the  lecture  this  morn- 
ing and  they  all  knocked.  It's  her  money  they  listen 
to,  not  her  ideas.  She's  no  rival  of  yours,  my  dear. 
But,  speaking  of  rivals,  I've  been  keeping  something 
from  you.  Good  old  John  Moore  has  called  on  me 
twice  lately  and  I  went  to  a  movie  with  him  Saturday 
night.  Honest,  I  did!  Don't  faint,  but  I  actually 
broke  a  date  with  Tommy  to  see  a  picture  with  your 
old  college  chum!  Go  on  and  scold  me!" 

"Why,  Irene,  I'm  awfully  pleased.  John  liked  you 
from  the  first  time  you  met." 

"Well,  he  oughtn't  to!  Really  it  would  be  a  lot  bet- 
ter if  you'd  warn  him  against  me.  He's  so  square  him- 
self that  he  refuses  to  believe  anything  mean  of  any- 
body; and  if  he  should  fall  in  love  with  me — or  worse 
— if  I'd  get  a  case  on  him " 

She  shook  her  head  and  compressed  her  lips  to  in- 
dicate the  dire  possibilities  of  either  predicament. 

"Why  not?"  Grace  demanded. 

"Don't  be  silly;  you  know  why  not,"  Irene  replied. 
"He  thinks  I'm  straight  and  you  know  I'm — well,  you 
know  what  you  know.  And  I  just  wouldn't  fool  that 
man!  If  I  did  I'd  be  punished  for  it  and  I'd  deserve 
to  be." 

"Why,  Irene!"  exclaimed  Grace.  "I  believe  you're 
already  in  love  with  him." 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  329 

"Well,  hardly  that,"  Irene  replied  reflectively,  "but 
I've  got  one  of  the  symptoms.  I'm  going  to  quit  my 
evil  ways  and  chuck  Tommy!  Old  sackcloth  and 
ashes  stuff!  I  ought  to  have  let  him  go  when  we  had 
the  row  about  that  girl  in  Chicago.  You  know,  Grace, 
we're  always  hearing  about  the  influence  of  a  good 
woman,  but,  my  dear,  it's  nothing  to  what  a  good  man 
can  do!  I  suppose,"  she  went  on  in  her  large  phil- 
osophic manner,  "it's  because  really  fine  men  are  so 
scarce  that  when  you  do  spot  one  you  just  naturally 
feel  like  prostrating  yourself  in  the  dust  before  him. 
When  I  began  lotus-eating  with  Tommy  I  thought  I'd 
never  weary  of  the  food,  but  John's  given  me  an  ap- 
petite for  corn  bread  and  cabbage!  Just  what  will 
you  take  for  your  interest  in  John?" 

"I  never  could  have  loved  John  and  he's  never 
thought  of  me  in  that  way,"  Grace  replied  seriously. 
"But,  Irene,  for  his  friendship  I  wouldn't  take  a 
million  dollars." 

"Of  course  you  wouldn't!  And  just  for  his  respect 
and  confidence,  I'd — " 

Grace  marvelled  to  see  tears  in  Irene's  eyes. 

The  hour  spent  with  Irene  served  at  least  to  change 
the  current  of  Grace's  thoughts.  There  were  other  girl 
friends  for  whom  she  had  a  warm  liking  but  Irene 
continued  to  hold  first  place  in  her  affections.  The 
girl's  poise  and  serenity,  her  flashes  of  wisdom,  made 
her  increasingly  fascinating.  And  there  was  a  charm 
in  her  very  unaccountableness.  That  the  luxury-lov- 
ing Irene,  who  had  so  recently  spoken  of  marriage  as 
only  a  means  of  attaining  comfort  and  ease,  should 
tolerate  the  attentions  of  a  young  countryman  who 
stood  at  the  threshold  of  one  of  the  most  difficult  pro- 
fessions was  all  but  incredible.  But  this  was  no  more 


330  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

puzzling  than  the  attraction  John  apparently  found  in 
Irene. 

II 

By  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  Grace  was  again 
enmeshed  in  a  network  of  doubt  and  apprehension. 
Trenton  was  making  a  journey  for  the  express  pur- 
pose of  meeting  his  wife;  he  had  probably  reached 
Indianapolis  at  noon  and  gone  at  once  to  Miss  Rey- 
nolds's  to  see  her.  Grace's  imagination  was  playing 
cruel  tricks  upon  her;  she  pictured  the  meeting  be- 
tween Trenton  and  his  wife  in  a  hundred  ways.  He 
would  kiss  her,  perhaps  take  her  into  his  arms;  and 
after  their  long  separation  it  was  possible  that  both 
might  experience  a  reawakening  of  the  early  passion 
that  had  died  in  them.  Grace,  seeking  the  lowest 
depths  of  humility,  knew  herself  only  as  Number 
Eighteen  at  Shipley's,  a  girl  to  be  played  with  and 
cast  aside  by  another  woman's  husband  whenever  it 
pleased  him  to  be  done  with  her.  In  her  self-abase- 
ment she  recalled  Irene's  oft-reiterated  declaration 
about  Kemp,  that  she  admired  his  brains  and  was 
fond  of  him  but  never  deceived  herself  with  the  idea 
that  she  loved  him.  This  was  the  wiser  way.  Grace 
lashed  herself  pitilessly  for  her  folly  in  giving  her  love 
so  unreservedly  when  the  result  could  bring  nothing 
but  unhappiness.  Her  love  and  trust  wavered  like 
sunlight  struggling  to  penetrate  a  field  of  cloud. 

She  was  standing  near  the  entrance  to  the  ready-to- 
wear  department,  inattentive  and  listless,  when  the 
rattle  of  the  elevator  door  roused  her  and  Trenton 
stepped  out.  At  the  sight  of  him  the  blood  rushed  to 
her  heart  till  it  seemed  for  a  moment  that  she  would 
die  of  joy  at  the  sight  of  him. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  331 

He  saw  her  at  once  and  walked  quickly  toward  her. 
He  had  never  before  seemed  so  handsome  and  dis- 
tinguished. His  step  had  the  elasticity  of  youth,  and 
there  was  a  happy  light  in  his  eyes  as  he  took  her 
hand.  This  was  the  first  time  he  had  sought  her  at 
Shipley's  and  she  assumed  that  his  coming  meant  that 
he  had  siezed  the  only  possible  moment  to  see  her. 

"We  can't  talk  here,  of  course;  I've  got  Kemp's 
car  and  I  can  explain  things  as  we  ride,"  he  said. 
"Can  you  get  excused  for  the  rest  of  the  day?" 

Miss  Boardman,  busily  marking  price  tags,  gave 
the  permission  with  an  absent-minded  nod  and  Grace 
hurried  back  to  report  that  she  was  free  and  would  get 
her  wraps  and  meet  him  at  the  main  entrance. 

When  they  were  in  Kemp's  limousine  Trenton 
ordered  Craig  to  drive  straight  north,  without  men- 
tioning a  destination.  There  was  no  hint  of  trouble 
in  his  clear  steady  eyes.  His  air  of  perfect  self-con- 
fidence, of  knowing  exactly  what  he  was  about,  restored 
her  faith.  She  loved  him  and  she  was  proud  that  she 
loved  him. 

"Please  don't  be  frightened!"  he  began,  clasping 
her  hand  when  they  were  clear  of  the  down-town 
traffic.  "I've  just  seen  Mrs.  Trenton.  She  wired  me 
for  an  appointment  to  discuss  some  of  her  personal 
business  matters.  As  she's  going  further  West  lectur- 
ing it  was  as  convenient  to  see  her  here  as  anywhere 
else.  So  I  came  here  and  have  already  seen  her  at 
Miss  Reynolds's.  It  took  some  time  to  go  over  her 
investments  and  explain  some  changes  I  had  made  in 
them.  When  that  was  finished  she  suddenly  asked 
about  that  letter  I  wrote  to  her  last  fall  from  St. 
Louis.  That  settled  the  question  as  to  whether  she 
ever  got  it." 

"Yes,  I  remember,"  Grace  replied  faintly. 


332  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

In  spite  of  his  cheerfulness  she  was  sure  that  he  was 
leading  up  to  some  disagreeable  disclosure  and  invol- 
untarily she  drew  away  her  hand. 

"It's  all  right,  dear,"  he  went  on  reassuringly.  "She 
said  she  knew  we'd  been  drifting  further  apart  for 
a  long  time  and  that  she  wasn't  surprised  by  my 
letter.  She  hadn't  acknowledged  it  because  she  was 
waiting  for  a  chance  to  see  me  to  talk  it  out.  She 
seemed  rather  amused.  She  has  a  way  of  being 
amused  at  things.  And  now — don't  jump!"  he  caught 
her  hand  and  clasped  it  tight.  "She  was  always  a 
woman  of  surprises — she  said  she  wanted  to  see  the 
girl  I  had  mentioned — but  not  in  a  disagreeable  way 
at  all.  If  you  knew  her  you'd  understand." 

"That's  it — I  do  understand,"  Grace  replied  slowly. 
"I  was  at  the  dinner  Miss  Reynolds  gave  for  her  last 
night.  I  ought  to  have  asked  you  if  it  was  all  right 
to  go — but  I  was  afraid  you'd  say  no — and — and  I 
had  to  see  her."  Her  voice  broke  in  a  sob,  but  lifting 
her  head  she  hurried  on.  "I  was  jealous — terribly 
jealous — and  something  tells  me  that — that — we  are 
— near  the  end." 

"Please,  dear;  don't  give  way  to  foolish  fears!"  he 
implored.  "I'm  glad  you  went  to  the  dinner;  that  was 
all  right  and  I  want  to  hear  all  about  it  later.  Hav- 
ing seen  Mrs.  Trenton  you  ought  to  know  that  her 
request  is  quite  characteristic.  Don't  you  see  that 
she's  curious  about  you,  just  as  you  were  about  her! 
I  really  think  she  means  to  be  kind  to  me.  It's  un- 
usual of  course,  but — Mrs.  Trenton  is  a  very  unusual 
woman ! " 

Grace  looked  at  him  in  a  kind  of  dumb  wonder. 

"You — you  told  her  my  name — "  she  faltered. 

"No;  certainly  not!  You  weren't  mentioned.  I 
think  she  assumed  that  the  girl  I  wrote  her  about 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  333 

lived  in  St.  Louis.  She  was  rather  taken  aback  when 
I  said  she  lived  here." 

"And  you  told  her  you'd  produce  me — exhibit  me 
for  her  criticism?  Ward,  what  can  you  be  thinking 
of;  what  can  you  think  of  me  to  ask  such  a  thing?  I 
suppose  you  told  her  everything?" 

"Why  Grace,  this  isn't  like  you!  You're  taking  it  all 
too  seriously.  Mrs.  Trenton  has  no  cause  to  think 
anything  except  that  I've  met  you  and  fallen  in  love 
with  you.  You  must  be  reasonable,  dear,"  he  went  on 
patiently.  "She  knows  nothing  and  has  no  right  to 
assume — what  we'd  rather  she  didn't.  It's  just  a 
whim  of  hers.  If  I  thought  she  wouldn't  treat  you 
as  one  lady  should  treat  another  I  wouldn't  ask  you 
to  go.  It  will  be  the  most  formal  call — no  chance  for 
anything  unpleasant,  even  if  she  wanted  to  be  dis- 
agreeable." 

"She  could  be  very  disagreeable.  I  didn't  like  her; 
I  didn't  like  her  at  all!  It  seems  to  me  sheer  folly 
to  put  myself  in  her  way  unnecessarily." 

"I  tell  you  it  will  be  all  right!"  he  protested.  "She 
will  be  surprised,  of  course,  to  find  that  she  has  already 
met  you.  You  know  I  wouldn't  cause  you  the  slightest 
embarrassment  or  pain  for  the  world." 

For  a  moment  she  pondered,  her  confidence  in  him 
and  her  wish  to  accede  to  his  wishes  struggling  against 
suspicion  and  jealousy. 

"You're  sure  this  isn't  a  trick — a  trap!"  she  asked. 

"Of  course  not,  dear!  How  can  you  think  such  a 
thing?  Mrs.  Trenton  really  has  a  sense  of  humor; 
and  she's  a  woman  of  the  world.  Besides  she  has  no 
ground  whatever  for  attacking  you;  I  can't  imagine 
her  doing  that  in  any  circumstances.  I'm  just  meeting 
her  wish  to  see  a  girl  I  told  her  I  admire.  But — 
I  count  more  than  I  dare  say  on  the  result.  I  want 


334  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

to  give  her  a  chance  to  practice  what  she  preaches!" 
"Well,"  said  Grace,  searching  his  eyes  with  a  long 

gaze,  "I'll  go  since  you  insist,  but  I  think  it's  foolish. 

It's  the  most  ridiculous  thing  I  ever  heard  of!     But 

she  can't  do  more  than  murder  me." 

"She  can't  do  more  than  approve  of  you!"  he  cried 

and  ordered  Craig  to  drive  to  Miss  Reynolds's. 

Ill 

Mrs.  Trenton  was  immediately  visible,  writing  at  a 
small  table  in  the  living  room,  when  they  were  ushered 
into  the  reception  parlor.  She  wore  a  pair  of  shell- 
rimmed  library  glasses,  and  it  occurred  to  Grace  that 
the  blank  stare  that  had  been  so  disconcerting  the 
previous  night  was  probably  attributable  to  some  de- 
fect of  vision.  She  did  not  lift  her  head  when  the  maid 
spoke  to  her  but  nodded  and  went  on  writing  for  sev- 
eral minutes.  Then  she  laid  aside  the  glasses  and 
walked  unhurriedly  to  the  door. 

"Ah,  Ward,  back  again!" 

"I  believe  you've  met  Miss  Durland,  May,"  said 
Trenton. 

"Yes;  of  course,"  she  replied  with  a  smile  of  recog- 
nition that  faded  instantly.  "It's  nice  of  you  to  come, 
Miss  Durland.  I  didn't  know  last  night  that  you  were 
acquainted  with  Mr.  Trenton.  Dear  Miss  Reynolds 
didn't  mention  it  or  I  should,  of  course " 

She  broke  off  in  her  odd  way,  her  gaze  wandering. 
Her  indifference  was  an  achievement  in  itself,  a  mas- 
terly thing.  She  wore  a  blue  house  gown  of  an  ex- 
quisite simplicity.  A  string  of  crystal  beads  hung 
about  her  neck  and  she  put  her  hand  to  them 
frequently  as  though  to  make  sure  they  were  there. 
As  she  sank  into  a  chair  her  long  figure  relaxed  into 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  335 

graceful  lines.  She  was  much  more  composed  than  at 
the  dinner,  with  a  languorous  composure  that  might 
have  been  donned  for  the  occasion  like  a  garment. 
She  reminded  Grace  of  those  portraits  of  women  done 
by  fashionable  painters  which  satisfy  the  artistic  sense 
without  conveying  a  sense  of  reality. 

"You  forget,  May,  that  I  haven't  met  Miss  Rey- 
nolds," Trenton  remarked  to  her;  but  she  ignored  him. 

"You  are — what  do  you  say — a  Hoosier,  Miss  Dur- 
land?"  she  asked,  her  gaze  falling  as  if  by  chance 
upon  Grace. 

"Oh,  yes,  I'm  a  native."  Grace  answered  with 
a  faint  smile;  but  her  courage  was  ebbing.  She  hated 
Mrs.  Trenton.  She  tried  to  think  of  something  amus- 
ing to  add  to  her  confession  that  she  was  a  native 
Indianian  but  the  atmosphere  of  the  room  was  not 
conducive  to  brilliancy.  To  make  conversation  Tren- 
ton reminded  his  wife  that  they  had  once  met  a 
certain  senator  from  Indiana  at  White  Sulphur 
Springs. 

A  "yes"  charged  with  all  the  apathy  that  can  be 
conveyed  by  the  rising  inflexion,  was  the  only  reply 
that  was  evoked  by  this  attempt  to  link  Indiana  to 
large  affairs  of  state.  Trenton  asked  Grace  whether 
Indiana  had  ever  produced  more  than  one  president, 
and  she  tried  to  ease  her  discomfiture  by  replying 
that  the  state  had  rather  specialized  in  vice-presidents. 

"Oh,  that!"  remarked  Mrs.  Trenton.  "How  very 
droll!  I  suppose  the  Indiana  school  teacher  has  a 
frightful  time  instilling  in  the  young  Hoosier  mind  the 
names  of  all  your  vice-presidents.  Do  they  pay 
teachers  well  in  Indiana?" 

"Not  so  well  as  farther  West,  I  believe,"  Grace 
answered;  "but  I  know  little  about  it." 


336  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

"That's  the  next  thing  I'm  going  to  take  up.  I'm 
having  data  collected  now,"  Mrs.  Trenton  said  with 
more  spirit  than  she  had  before  manifested. 

"That's  fine,  May,"  said  Trenton  cordially.  "That's 
a  work  worth  doing." 

"You'd  really  approve  of  that,  Ward?"  she  asked. 
"You  haven't  always  been  so  indulgent  of  my  whims." 

Grace,  increasingly  uncomfortable,  started  when 
Mrs.  Trenton  addressed  her  directly. 

"Miss  Durland,  if  you  see  too  much  of  Mr.  Tren- 
ton you  will  find  him  a  singularly  unreasonable  per- 
son. But,"  with  a  shrug,  "all  men  have  the  ancient 
conceit  of  their  sex  superiority." 

She  had  drawled  the  "if  you  see  too  much"  in  a  man- 
ner to  give  the  phrase  a  peculiar  insinuating  emphasis. 
Grace  caught  its  significance  at  once  and  her  cheeks 
burned;  but  she  was  less  angry  at  the  woman  than  at 
Trenton,  whose  face  betrayed  no  resentment.  She 
rose  and  walked  to  the  door. 

"Dear  me,  don't  run  away!"  Mrs.  Trenton  ex- 
claimed. "Miss  Reynolds  will  be  back  shortly.  She 
was  called  away  to  some  hospital — I  think  it  was — to 
see  a  friend.  Do  wait.  There  will  be  tea,  I  think." 

Trenton  was  on  his  feet.  No  man's  mind  is  ever 
quite  so  agile  or  discerning  as  a  woman's.  He  had 
just  caught  up  with  the  phrase  that  had  angered 
Grace. 

"I  have  kept  my  word,"  he  said,  rising  and  address- 
ing his  wife  directly.  "When  I  promised  you  that  if 
I  ever  met  a  woman  I  felt  I  could  care  for  I  would 
tell  you,  I  was  in  earnest.  At  your  own  suggestion 
and  in  perfect  good  faith  I  asked  Miss  Durland  to 
come  here." 

"My  dear  Ward!  You  were  always  a  man  of  your 
word!"  she  said  with  a  hint  of  mockery  in  her  voice. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  337 

"I  assure  you  that  I'm  delighted  to  meet  Miss  Dur- 
land.  She's  very  charming,  really." 

"I  don't  intend  that  you  shall  forget  yourself!"  he 
said  sharply.  "Your  conduct  since  you  came  into  this 
room  has  been  contemptible!" 

"I'm  most  contrite!  Do  forgive  me,  Miss  Dur- 
land." 

She  lay  back  in  her  chair  in  a  pose  of  exaggerated 
ease  and  lazily  turned  her  head  to  look  at  Grace. 

"I  assume,"  she  said,  "that  you  are  my  chosen  suc- 
cessor, and  I  can't  complain  of  my  husband's  taste. 
You  are  very  handsome  and  I  can  see  how  your  youth 
would  appeal  to  him,  but — there  are  things  I  must  con- 
sider. Please  wait" — Grace  had  laid  her  hand  on  the 
door, — "I  may  as  well  say  it  all  now.  I've  probably 
led  Ward  to  think  that  if  such  an  emergency  as  this 
arose  I'd  free  him  and  bid  him  Godspeed.  But,  you 
see,  confronted  with  the  fact,  I  find  it  necessary  to 
think  a  little  of  myself.  One  must,  you  know,  and 
I'm  horribly  selfish.  It  would  never  do  to  give  my 
critics  a  chance  to  take  a  fling  at  me  as  a  woman 
whose  marriage  is  a  failure.  You  can  see  for  yourself, 
Miss  Durland,  how  my  position  would  be  weakened 
if  I  were  a  divorcee.  Much  as  I  hate  to  disappoint 
you — it  would  never  do — really  it  would  not!" 

"Just  what  are  you  assuming,  Mrs.  Trenton?"  de- 
manded Grace,  meeting  the  gaze  of  the  older  woman. 

"We  needn't  discuss  that  now!"  interrupted  Tren- 
ton peremptorily. 

"No;  I  suppose  you'd  have  to  confer  privately  with 
Miss  Durland  before  reaching  a  conclusion.  But,  I 
suggest,  Miss  Durland,  for  the  sake  of  your  own  hap- 
piness, that  you  avoid,  if,  indeed,  the  warning  isn't  too 
late,  forming  any — what  do  we  call  such — " 


338  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

"That  will  do!  Stop  right  there!"  Trenton  inter- 
rupted. 

Grace  had  swung  round  from  the  door,  and  stood, 
her  lips  parted  and  with  something  of  the  look  of  an 
angry,  hurt  child  in  her  eyes.  It  seemed  to  her  that 
she  was  an  unwilling  eavesdropper,  hearing  words  not 
intended  for  her  ears,  but  without  the  power  to  escape. 
Then  she  heard  Trenton's  voice. 

"You'd  better  go,  Grace,"  he  said  quietly.  "Craig 
is  waiting.  He  will  take  you  home." 

Grace  closed  the  door  after  her  and  paused  in  the 
dim  hall.  A  nightmare  numbness  had  seized  her; 
and  she  found  herself  wondering  whether  she  could 
reach  the  outer  door;  it  seemed  remote,  unattainable. 
She  steadied  herself  against  the  newel,  remembering 
an  accident  in  childhood  that  had  left  her  dazed  and 
nauseated.  Trenton  had  told  her  to  go;  at  his  wife's 
bidding  he  was  sending  her  away  and  it  wasn't  neces- 
sary for  him  to  dismiss  her  like  that! 

She  felt  herself  precipitated  into  a  measureless 
oblivion;  nothing  good  or  beautiful  ever  had  been  or 
would  be.  He  had  told  her  to  go;  that  was  all;  and 
like  a  grieved  and  heartbroken  child  she  resented  being 
sent  away.  In  her  distress  she  was  incapable  of 
crediting  him  with  the  kindness  that  had  prompted  him 
to  bid  her  leave. 

She  was  startled  by  a  quick  step  on  the  walk  out- 
side, followed  by  the  click  of  the  lock,  and  the  door, 
flung  open,  revealed  Miss  Reynolds. 

"Why,  Grace,  I  had  no  idea — why,  child!  What's 
the  matter?  You're  as  white  as  a  sheet!" 

"I  must  go,"  said  Grace  in  a  whisper,  withdrawing 
the  hand  Miss  Reynolds  had  clasped.  The  door  re- 
mained open  and  the  world,  a  fantastically  distorted 
world,  lay  outside.  With  slow  steps  she  passed  her 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  339 

bewildered  friend,  saying  in  the  tone  of  one  muttering 
in  an  unhappy  dream: 

"I  must  go!     He  told  me  to  go." 

"He— who?" 

The  astonished  Miss  Reynolds,  who  at  first  thought 
Grace  was  playing  a  joke  of  some  kind,  watched  her 
pass  slowly  down  the  walk  to  the  gate  and  enter  the 
waiting  car.  She  went  out  upon  the  steps,  uncertain 
what  to  do  and  caught  a  last  glimpse  of  Grace's  face, 
her  eyes  set  straight  ahead,  as  the  machine  bore  her 
away. 

IV 

The  thought  of  remaining  at  home  was  unbearable, 
and  after  supper  Grace  telephoned  Irene  to  ask 
whether  she  was  free  for  the  evening. 

"Tommy  said  something  about  taking  a  drive  and 
I'm  going  over  to  Minnie's  to  meet  him.  You  come 
right  along.  I  saw  Ward  snatch  you  out  of  the  store. 
Pretty  cool,  I  call  it!  Tommy  said  he  was  going  back 
East  at  seven,  so  you're  a  widow  once  more!" 

Grace  left  the  house  with  her  father,  who  was 
spending  all  his  evenings  at  Kemp's  plant.  To  all 
questions  at  home  as  to  the  progress  of  his  motor 
Durland  replied  that  he  guessed  it  would  be  all  right. 
On  the  street-car  he  told  Grace  he  was  anxious  to  see 
Trenton;  there  were  difficulties  as  to  the  motor  that 
he  wished  to  discuss  with  him.  He  said  he  had  writ- 
ten, asking  an  interview  as  soon  as  possible,  but  that 
Trenton  had  not  replied.  Grace  answered  that  she 
knew  nothing  about  him  and  her  heart  sank  as  she 
remembered  that  Trenton  was  no  longer  a  part  of  her 
life  and  that  in  the  future  he  would  come  and  go  and 
she  would  never  be  the  wiser. 


340  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

It  was  all  over  and  she  faced  the  task  of  convincing 
herself  that  her  love  for  him  had  been  a  delusion,  a 
mere  episode  to  be  forgotten  as  quickly  as  possible. 
She  left  her  father  at  Washington  street,  cheerily  wish- 
ing him  good  luck,  and  took  a  car  that  ran  past 
Minnie's  door. 

Irene  was  alone  and,  in  a  new  gown  of  coppergreen 
crepe  that  enhanced  the  gold  in  her  hair,  might  have 
posed  as  the  spirit  of  spring.  Minnie  had  remained 
down  town,  she  explained,  and  Tommy  was  not  ex- 
pected until  nine. 

"What's  happened?"  she  demanded.  "I  know  some- 
thing's doing  or  you  wouldn't  have  called  me  up  from 
home." 

Grace  took  off  her  coat,  hung  it  over  the  back  of 
a  chair  and  flung  herself  down  on  the  couch. 

"Console  me  a  little,  Irene, — but  not  too  much — 
I've  seen  Ward  for  the  last  time." 

"His  wife  make  a  row?"  Irene  inquired. 

"Yes,  he  took  me  to  see  her  and  she " 

"He  took  you  to  see  her !  Grace  Durland,  what  are 
you  talking  about?" 

"Just  that!"  and  Grace,  no  longer  able  to  restrain 
herself,  burst  into  tears. 

"You  poor  baby!" 

Irene  jumped  up  and  thrust  a  pillow  back  of  Grace's 
head  and  sat  down  beside  her.  "Tell  me  about  it  if 
you  want  to,  but  not  unless  you  feel  like  it,  honey." 

"I've  simply  got  to  tell  you,  Irene.    Oh !" 

"Grace  Durland,  don't  be  silly!  You  know  I'd  die 
for  you!" 

She  listened  in  patient  silence  while  Grace  told  with 
minute  detail  and  many  tears  the  story  of  her  in- 
terview with  Mrs.  Trenton. 

"I  loved  him;  I  still  love  him,  Irene!"  she  moaned 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  341 

pitifully  when  she  had  finished.  "And  it  had  to  end 
like  that!" 

"If  you  want  my  opinion,"  said  Irene  judicially, 
"I'll  say  that  Ward  Trenton  is  a  perfect  nut — the 
final  and  consummate  nut  of  the  whole  nut  family! 
The  idea  that  he  would  take  a  girl  like  you — and 
you're  a  good  deal  of  a  kid,  my  dear — to  call  on  a 
woman  like  that  wife  of  his,  who's  an  experienced 
worldly  creature,  and  as  much  as  tell  her  that  he's  in 
love  with  you!  It's  the  limit!" 

"But,"  said  Grace,  quick  to  defend  the  moment 
Trenton  was  attacked,  "he  had  every  reason  to  be- 
lieve she  would  be  decent!  She'd  always  let  him  think 
that  if  there  was  anyone  else  she'd — she'd " 

"She'd  hand  him  a  transfer!"  Irene  laughed  iron- 
ically. "Isn't  that  just  like  poor  old  Ward!  I  tell 
you  men  are  even  as  little  babes  where  women  are 
concerned.  There  isn't  a  woman  on  earth  who'd  just 
calmly  sit  by  and  let  another  woman  walk  off  with 
her  husband  even  if  she  hated  him  like  poison.  It's 
against  nature,  dearest.  I  can  see  how  that  woman 
would  make  the  bluff,  all  right,  but  all  she  wanted 
was  to  see  what  you  looked  like  and  finding  you  young 
and  beautiful  she  tried  to  make  you  feel  like  a  counter- 
feit nickel.  The  trouble  with  Ward  is  that  he's  so 
head  over  heels  in  love  with  you  that  he's  lost  his 
mind.  I  wonder  what  happened  after  you  skipped  1 
I'll  bet  it  was  some  party!  But  don't  you  believe  he's 
going  to  give  you  up — not  Ward!  Everything's  going 
to  straighten  out,  honey.  His  telling  you  to  go  doesn't 
mean  a  blessed  thing!  He  just  wanted  to  get  you  out 
of  the  scrap." 

"It  means  the  end,"  said  Grace  with  a  sigh  that  lost 
itself  in  a  sob. 

The  bell  tinkled  and  Grace  ran  away  to  remove  the 


342  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

traces  of  tears  from  her  face.  When  she  reappeared 
Kemp  greeted  her  with  his  usual  raillery. 

"I  had  only  a  word  with  Ward  over  the  telephone," 
he  said.  "He  came  out  to  see  his  wife  and  as  he  bor- 
rowed my  limousine  I  guess  he  showed  her  the  village 
sights.  But,  of  course,  you  know  more  about  that 
bird  than  I  do,  Grace.  You  couldn't  scare  me  up  a 
drink,  could  you,  Irene?  Minnie's  got  some  stuff  of 
mine  concealed  here  somewhere.  Just  a  spoonful — 
no?  Grace,  this  girl  is  a  cruel  tyrant.  She  positively 
refuses  to  let  me  die  a  drunkard's  happy  death." 

He  evidently  wasn't  aware  that  Grace  had  seen 
Trenton  and  Irene  carefully  kept  the  talk  in  safe 
channels.  He  had  brought  his  roadster,  not  knowing 
that  he  was  to  find  Grace  at  Minnie's,  but  he  insisted 
that  the  car  carried  three  comfortably  and  he  wouldn't 
consider  leaving  her  behind. 

It  was  the  same  car  in  which  Trenton  had  driven  her 
into  town  after  the  night  they  spent  together  at  The 
Shack.  In  spite  of  her  attempts  to  forget,  thoughts  of 
him  filled  her  mind  like  an  implacable  host  of  sol- 
diery. . .  . 

After  a  plunge  into  the  country  they  swung  back  to 
town  along  the  river. 

"By  Jove!"  exclaimed  Kemp  suddenly.  "There's 
my  little  factory  over  there  in  the  moonlight.  Have 
you  ever  seen  it,  Grace?  We'll  just  dash  in  for  a 
minute." 

"I  wonder  if  father's  still  there?"  said  Grace  as 
they  drove  into  the  lighted  yard. 

"We'll  soon  find  out.  That's  his  workshop  yonder 
where  you  see  the  bluish  lights.  I  see  O'Reilly's  light 
on  in  tie  main  office.  That  fellow  works  too  hard." 

"It's  a  good  thing  somebody  works  around  this 
place,"  said  Irene.  "The  world  knows  you  don't." 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  343 

"Oh,  it's  not  as  bad  as  that,"  Kemp  retorted,  and 
led  the  way  down  a  long  aisle  of  one  of  the  steel  and 
glass  units  of  the  big  plant.  The  moon  diffused  its 
mild  radiance  through  the  glass  roof,  as  though  mock- 
ing with  a  superior  mystery  the  silent  inert  machinery. 

The  sound  of  voices  became  audible  in  a  room  parti- 
tioned off  in  one  corner.  The  door  was  ajar  and  two 
men  in  overalls  and  jumpers  were  pondering  a  motor 
set  up  on  a  testing  block. 

The  trio  remained  outside,  watching  the  two  intent, 
rapt  figures.  One  Grace  had  recognized  as  her  father; 
the  other,  she  realized  bewilderedly,  was  Ward  Tren- 
ton. Trenton,  unconscious  that  he  was  watched, 
raised  his  hand  and  Durland  turned  a  switch.  The 
hum  of  a  motor  filled  the  room;  and  Durland  turned 
slowly  from  the  motor  to  glance  at  Trenton.  Trenton 
signalled  to  shut  off  the  power  and  dropped  upon  his 
knees,  peering  into  the  machine.  Durland  took  up  a 
sheet  of  paper  and  from  it  answered  the  questions 
which  Trenton  shot  at  him  in  rapid  succession. 

"Let's  have  the  power  again,"  said  Trenton.  He 
rose,  bent  his  ear  to  study  the  sound,  turned  to  Dur- 
land and  nodded. 

"Let's  see  what  they're  up  to,"  said  Kemp  and 
shouted  Trenton's  name.  Grace  drew  back  as  the  two 
men  turned  toward  them,  but  Irene  seized  her  arm. 

"Don't  you  dare  run  away!" 

Trenton  came  toward  them  snatching  off  his  blue 
mechanic's  cap.  There  was  a  smudge  across  his  face 
and  his  hands  were  black  from  contact  with  the  ma- 
chinery. 

"I  didn't  really  lie  to  you,  Tommy:  I  meant  to  leave 
tonight  but  remembered  that  Mr.  Durland  wanted  to 
see  me,  so  here  I  am." 


344  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

They  followed  him  to  the  testing  block  where  Dur- 
land  had  remained,  too  engrossed  to  heed  them. 

"I'm  glad  you  came  just  when  you  did,"  said  Tren- 
ton addressing  all  of  them  but  looking  at  Grace.  "Mr. 
Durland  will  be  ready  to  begin  the  final  tests  to- 
morrow. I'm  sure  they're  going  to  be  successful.  I 
want  you  to  be  here,  Tommy,  and  see  the  thing 
through.  Just  look  at  this ! " 

He  deftly  lifted  out  a  part  of  the  motor  for  Kemp's 
inspection,  restored  it  and  then  bent  over  the  bench, 
rapidly  scribbling  notes  on  the  back  of  a  blue  print. 

"Congratulations  are  now  in  order,  I  suppose,"  said 
Kemp.  He  turned  and  shook  hands  with  Durland,  who 
was  regarding  the  motor  with  a  puzzled  look  on  his 
face.  Trenton  said  he  would  remain  a  while  longer — 
he  might  stay  all  night,  he  added  with  a  laugh. 

"This  is  too  important  to  leave,  so  I've  changed  all 
my  plans  and  will  be  here  two  or  three  days." 

"When  this  bird  works,  he  works,"  said  Kemp, 
laying  his  hand  affectionately  on  Trenton's  shoulder. 

Trenton  followed  them  out,  keeping  close  to  Grace. 
When  they  were  out  of  ear  shot  of  her  father — Dur- 
land apparently  hadn't  noticed  that  Grace  was  in  the 
room — Trenton  said: 

"I  called  you  at  home  this  evening  and  found  you'd 
gone  out.  I  want  to  see  you;  I  must  see  you,"  he 
said  pleadingly. 

Kemp  had  reached  the  main  shop  and  was  explain- 
ing to  Irene  some  of  the  points  of  the  motor. 

"Kemp!"  Trenton  called.  "What  are  you  doing 
tomorrow  night?" 

"Nothing;  I'm  ready  for  anything." 

"Well,  Grace  and  I  would  like  to  have  dinner  with 
you  at  The  Shack." 

"A  grand  idea!    Only  remember — none  of  this  pro- 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  345 

hibition  stuff  you  pulled  on  me  Christmas.  I  cannot 
dine  without  my  wine!"  he  chanted. 

When  they  reached  the  yard  Kemp  and  Irene  were 
waiting  by  the  car.  Trenton  caught  Grace's  hand  and 
whispered: 

"Remember,  I  love  you!     I  shall  always  love  you." 

"No— no— "  she  began.  "Oh  this  isn't  kind!  I 
thought  you  had  gone — or " 

"Come  along,  Grace,"  cried  Kemp.  "See  you  to- 
morrow, Ward.  Goodnight  and  good  luck!" 

To  Grace,  on  the  homeward  drive,  peace  seemed  an 
unattainable  thing.  She  had  firmly  resolved  never  to 
see  Trenton  again;  but  she  had  not  only  seen  him 
but  the  sight  of  him  had  deepened  the  hunger  in  her 
heart.  She  was  without  the  will  to  deny  him  the 
meeting  for  which  he  had  asked.  It  was  sweet  to 
think  that  he  had  remained  if  only  to  assist  her  father 
when  he  had  definitely  said  that  he  was  leaving  that 
night.  Yes;  there  was  kindness  in  this;  and  even 
though  he  had  sent  her  away  from  Miss  Reynolds's 
and  wounded  her  deeply  in  his  manner  of  doing  it, 
she  knew  that  it  was  always  his  wish  to  be  kind  and 
that  no  power  could  keep  her  from  seeing  him  again, 
if  only  for  a  last  good-bye. 


CHAPTER  FOURTEEN 

I 

As  she  dressed  the  next  morning  Grace  hummed  and 
whistled,  happy  in  the  consciousness  that  before  the 
day  ended  she  would  see  Trenton  again.  The  romantic 
strain  in  her  warmed  and  quickened  at  the  thought. 
Even  if  they  were  to  part  for  all  time  and  she  should 
go  through  life  with  his  love  only  a  memory,  it  would 
be  a  memory  precious  and  ineffacable,  that  would 
sweeten  and  brighten  all  her  years. 

In  his  workman's  garb,  as  she  had  seen  him  at 
Kemp's,  she  idealized  him  anew.  If  it  had  been  his 
fate  to  remain  a  laborer,  his  skill  would  have  set  him 
apart  from  his  fellows.  He  could  never  have  been 
other  than  a  man  of  mark.  It  was  a  compensation 
for  anything  she  might  miss  in  her  life  to  have  known 
the  love  of  such  a  man.  She  was  impatient  with  her- 
self and  sought  the  lowest  depths  of  self-abasement 
for  having  doubted  him.  She  should  never  again 
question  his  sincerity  or  his  wisdom,  but  would  abide 
by  his  decision  in  all  things. 

When  she  reached  the  dining  room  her  father  was 
already  gone,  and  her  mother  seemed  troubled  about 
him. 

"He  was  excited  and  nervous  when  he  came  home 
last  night,"  said  Mrs.  Durland.  "He  hardly  slept  and 
he  left  an  hour  ago  saying  he'd  get  a  cup  of  coffee 
on  his  way  through  town.  I'm  afraid  things  haven't 
been  going  right  with  him.  It  would  be  a  terrible 
blow  if  the  motor  didn't  turn  out  as  he  expected." 

"Let's  just  keep  hoping,  mother;   that's  the  only 

346 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  347 

way,"  Grace  replied  cheerily.  "They  wouldn't  be 
wasting  time  on  it  at  Kemp's  if  there  wasn't  some- 
thing in  it." 

"I  guess  you're  right  there,"  interposed  Ethel. 
"Kemp  has  the  reputation  of  being  a  cold-blooded 
proposition.  And  I  suppose  the  great  Trenton  values 
his  own  reputation  too  much  to  recommend  anything 
that  hasn't  got  money  in  it." 

"Poor  foolish  men  will  persist  in  going  into  business 
to  make  money,  not  for  fun,"  Grace  replied.  "I 
suppose  Gregg  and  Burley  don't  sell  insurance  just  as 
a  matter  of  philanthropy.  Mr.  Trenton  would  soon 
be  out  of  work  if  he  didn't  have  the  confidence  of 
the  people  who  hire  him.  I  wouldn't  be  so  bitter  if  I 
were  you." 

"I  heard  you  rolling  up  in  an  automobile  last  night," 
Ethel  persisted.  "You  seem  to  be  getting  the  benefit 
of  somebody's  money." 

"Ethel!"  cried  her  mother  despairingly. 

"Let  her  rave,"  replied  Grace  calmly.  "When  Mr. 
Burley  drives  Ethel  home  from  the  office  it's  an  act 
of  Christian  kindness,  but  if  I  get  a  lift  it's  a  sin." 

"Mr.  Burley,"  began  Ethel,  breathing  heavily,  "Mr. 
Burley  is  the  very  soul  of  honor!  He  wanted  to  talk 
to  me  about  some  of  the  work  in  our  Sunday  school 
and  hadn't  time  to  discuss  it  in  the  office." 

"Don't  think  for  a  minute  I  have  any  objection! 
If  he  was  just  opening  up  a  little  flirtation  it  would  be 
all  right  with  me." 

"How  dare  you?"  cried  Ethel,  beginning  to  cry. 

"Please,  Grace,"  began  Mrs.  Durland,  pausing  on 
her  way  to  the  kitchen  with  the  coffee  pot. 

"All  right,  mother,"  said  Grace.  "I  resent  just  a 
little  bit  having  Ethel  grab  all  the  virtue  in  the  fam- 
ily." 


348  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

"I'm  not  ashamed  to  tell  who  brings  me  home  any- 
how," Ethel  flung  at  her. 

"Neither,  for  that  matter,  am  I!  It  was  Mr. 
Thomas  Ripley  Kemp  who  brought  me  home  last 
night.  He'd  taken  Irene  and  me  for  a  drive." 

"So  that  was  it!  I  thought  I  recognized  the  car. 
That  Kemp!  I  suppose  he's  getting  tired  of  Irene 
and  is  looking  for  another  girl  1 " 

"Well,  dearie,  he  hasn't  said  anything  about  it," 
Grace  replied.  "But  you  never  can  tell." 

"Girls!  This  must  stop  right  here!  We  can't 
have  the  day  beginning  with  a  wrangle.  You  both 
ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourselves." 

"I'm  through,  mother,"  said  Grace.  "I  didn't  start 
the  row.  I've  reached  a  place  where  Ethel  doesn't 
really  worry  me  any  more." 

"Well,  you  were  always  a  tease  and  Ethel  is  sensi- 
tive. I  do  wish  you'd  both  exercise  a  little  restraint." 

Grace  found  a  brief  note  in  the  society  column  of 
the  morning  paper  recording  Mrs.  Trenton's  de- 
parture, and  an  editorial  ridiculing  her  opinions. 
Elsewhere  there  were  interviews  with  a  dozen  prom- 
inent men  and  women  on  Mrs.  Trenton's  lecture, 
all  expressing  disapproval  of  her  ideas.  A  leading 
Socialist  disavowed  any  sympathy  with  Mrs.  Tren- 
ton's programme  and  denounced  her  "Clues  to  a  New 
Social  Order"  as  a  mere  rehash  of  other  books.  He 
characterized  her  as  a  woman  of  wealth  who  was 
merely  seeking  notoriety  by  parading  herself  as  a 
revolutionist  and  who  would  be  sure  to  resist,  with  the 
innate  selfishness  and  greed  of  her  class,  any  inter- 
ference with  her  personal  comfort  and  ease. 

Grace  carried  the  newspaper  with  her  to  the  trolley 
and  on  the  way  down  town  re-read  these  criticisms  of 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  349 

Mrs.  Trenton  with  keenest  satisfaction.  Mrs.  Trenton 
was  not  a  great  woman  animated  by  a  passion  of  hu- 
manity but  narrow,  selfish  and  cruel.  She  thought 
again  of  the  encounter  at  Miss  Reynolds's  with  re- 
newed sympathy  for  Trenton.  After  all  he  had  met 
the  difficult  situation  in  the  only  way  possible.  He 
had  said  once  that  he  didn't  understand  his  wife  and 
Grace  consoled  herself  with  the  reflection  that  prob- 
ably no  one  could  understand  her,  least  of  all,  her 
husband. 

In  the  course  of  the  day  Grace  learned  from  Irene 
that  Kemp,  who  was  on  the  entertainment  committee 
for  a  large  national  convention,  had  decided  to  ask 
several  friends  among  the  delegates  to  The  Shack. 

"It  won't  be  a  shocker,  like  some  of  Tommy's 
parties,  only  a  little  personal  attention  for  a  few  of 
the  old  comrades,"  said  Irene.  "You  and  Ward  can 
see  as  little  of  the  rest  of  the  bunch  as  you  please. 
Tommy  has  promised  me  solemnly  to  let  booze  alone. 
I  suppose  his  wife  will  never  know  how  hard  I've 
worked  to  keep  him  straight!  Ridiculous,  isn't  it? 
Before  that  woman  came  back  from  California  Tommy 
hadn't  touched  a  drop  for  a  month,  and  he's  been 
doing  wonderfully  ever  since.  The  good  lady  was  so 
pleased  with  his  appearance  and  conduct  that  she  beat 
it  for  New  York  last  night  to  buy  clothes  and  by  the 
time  she  gets  back  I'll  be  ready  to  release  my  mortgage 
on  Tommy  for  good  and  all.  I've  broken  the  news 
to  him  gently  and  he's  been  awfully  nice  about  it. 
This  is  really  my  last  appearance  with  Tommy — it's 
understood  on  both  sides.  I  wouldn't  go  at  all  if  it 
were  not  for  you  and  Ward." 

Grace  envied  Irene  the  ease  with  which  she  met 
situations.  Irene's  cynicism,  she  had  decided,  was 
only  on  the  surface;  she  wished  she  could  be  sure  that 


350  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

she  herself  possessed  the  sound  substratum  of  charac- 
terthat  Irene  was  revealing.  Irene  had  sinned  griev- 
ously against  the  laws  of  God  and  man;  but  after  dis- 
daining those  influences  that  seek  to  safeguard  society, 
and  carrying  her  head  high,  with  a  certain  serene  im- 
pudence in  her  wrong  doing,  she  now  appeared  to  be  on 
good  terms  with  her  soul.  It  was  a  strange  thing  that 
this  could  be — one  of  the  most  curious  and  baffling  of 
all  Grace's  recent  experiences.  Face  to  to  face  with 
the  problem  of  her  future  relations  with  Trenton, 
Grace  was  finding  in  Irene  something  akin  to  a  moral 
tonic.  Irene,  by  a  code  of  her  own,  did  somehow  man- 
age to  cling  fast  to  things  reckoned  fine  and  noble. 
Irene,  in  spite  of  herself,  had  the  soul  of  a  virtuous 
woman. 

It  was  to  be  a  party  of  ten,  Grace  learned  after 
Irene  had  conferred  with  Kemp  by  telephone  at  the 
lunch  hour.  For  the  edification  of  the  three  strange 
men  Irene  had  provided  three  other  girls  who  had, 
as  Irene  said,  some  class  and  knew  how  to  amuse 
tired  business  men  without  becoming  vulgar.  Grace 
knew  these  young  women — they  were  variously  em- 
ployed down  town — but  she  would  never  have  thought 
of  asking  them  to  "go  on  a  party." 

"Not  one  of  these  girls  makes  less  than  two  thou- 
sand a  year,"  Irene  announced  loftily.  "God  preserve 
me  from  cheap  stuff!  It  makes  me  sick,  Grace,  to 
see  these  poor  little  fools  who  run  around  the  streets, 
all  dolled  up  with  enough  paint  on  their  faces  to  cover 
the  state  house  and  not  enough  brains  in  their  heads 
to  make  a  croquette  for  a  sick  mosquito.  If  it  hadn't 
been  for  all  this  silly  rot  about  emancipating  women 
they'd  be  at  home  cooking  and  helping  mamma  with 
the  wash.  As  it  is  they  draw  twelve  a  week  and  spend 
it  all  on  clothes  to  advertise  their  sex.  Do  you  know, 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  351 

Grace,  I  sometimes  shudder  for  the  future  of  the  hu- 
man race!" 


II 


Jerry  had  been  reinforced  by  a  colored  cateress  and 
the  country  supper  produced  at  The  Shack  proved  to 
be  a  sumptuous  dinner.  Kemp  had  brought  from  his 
well-stocked  cave  on  the  farm  the  ingredients  for  a 
certain  cocktail,  known  by  his  name  throughout  the 
corn-belt.  The  "Tommy  Kemp"  was  immediately  pro- 
nounced to  be  the  last  word  in  cocktails, — a  concoction 
which,  one  of  the  visitors  declared,  completely  annulled 
and  set  aside  the  Eighteenth  Amendment  to  the  Con- 
stitution of  the  United  States  as  an  insolent  assault 
upon  the  personal  liberty  and  the  palate  of  man. 
Kemp  was  in  the  gayest  spirits;  the  party  was  wholly 
to  his  taste.  The  men  he  entertained  were  con- 
spicuously successful,  and  leaders  in  the  business  and 
social  life  of  their  several  cities.  Irene  had  confided 
to  Grace  that  there  were  at  least  ten  millions  of  good 
money  represented  in  the  party. 

The  cocktails  were  served  in  the  living  room  to  the 
accompaniment  of  much  lively  chatter.  Grace  found 
herself  observing  with  interest  the  readiness  with 
which  the  young  women  who  were  strangers  to  The 
Shack's  hospitality  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  occa- 
sion and  met  on  terms  of  familiar  good  fellowship  the 
men  they  hadn't  seen  before.  It  helped  her  to  forget 
her  disappointment  at  the  size  of  the  party  to  specu- 
late about  the  men  and  the  curious  phase  of  human 
nature  that  made  it  possible  for  gentlemen  whose 
names  were  well  known  throughout  America,  who 
looked  as  though  they  might  pass  the  plate  in  church 


352  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

every  Sunday,  to  enter  joyfully  into  the  pleasures  of 
such  a  function.  Irene  had  made  no  mistake  in  her 
choice  of  girls;  they  were  handsome;  they  looked  well 
in  their  summer  frocks;  they  were  lively  and  re- 
sponsive; they  were  pastmistresses  of  the  gentle  art  of 
Jkidding.  There  was  no  question  but  that  the  visiting 
gentlemen  of  wealth  and  social  position  enjoyed  being 
kidded,  and  the  fact  that  some  of  them  had  daughters 
at  home  much  older  than  the  girls  who  did  the  kidding 
in  no  wise  mitigated  their  joy. 

One  of  the  gentlemen  evidently  preferred  Grace  to 
the  girl  who  had  been  assigned  to  him.  Under  the  in- 
spiration of  his  cocktail  he  told  Grace  that  he  had  long 
wished  to  meet  her;  that  now  they  had  met  he  was 
resolved  that  they  should  never  part  again.  Grace 
summoned  all  her  powers  of  flirtation  and  encouraged 
him,  realizing  that  to  snub  him  would  be  to  prove 
herself  a  poor  sport;  and  she  had  heard  enough  of 
parties  from  Irene  to  know  that  a  girl  must  not  when 
"on  a  party"  give  cause  for  any  suspicion  that  she  is 
of  the  melancholy  tribe  of  kill-joys.  She  took  a  sip 
of  the  "Tommy  Kemp"  and  handed  it  to  the  gentle- 
man who  was  so  beguiled  by  her  charms,  who  drained 
the  glass,  murmuring  ecstatically: 

"To  the  most  beautiful  girl  in  the  world!" 

"Don't  let  grandpa  worry  you,"  whispered  Irene. 
"Just  tease  him  a  little  and  he'll  think  he's  having  the 
time  of  his  life.  We're  not  drinking — you  and  I. 
This  is  positively  my  last  party!  I'm  going  to  have 
my  hands  full  keeping  Tommy  sober." 

Trenton  was  talking  during  the  cocktailing  period 
to  one  of  the  most  attractive  of  the  girls,  and  when 
Grace  glanced  at  him  he  smiled  and  held  up  his  un- 
emptied  glass  and  put  it  back  on  the  tray.  He  was 
not  drinking,  not  even  the  single  cocktail  he  usually 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  353 

permitted  himself.  There  was  serious  business  before 
them;  both  must  keep  their  heads  clear  for  it. 

The  dinner  seemed  endlessly  long.  Now  and  then 
Grace  felt  the  reassuring  pressure  of  Trenton's  hand, 
but  the  gentleman  on  the  other  side  of  her,  under  the 
mellowing  influence  of  champagne  piled  upon  the 
"Tommy  Kemps"  he  had  imbibed,  was  making  violent 
love  to  her;  and  his  elaborate  tributes  of  adoration 
could  not  be  wholly  ignored.  Seeing  that  Trenton  was 
talking  little,  Kemp,  still  sober,  thanks  to  Irene's 
watchfulness,  addressed  him  directly: 

"I've  got  news  for  you,  Ward.  At  five  o'clock  this 
afternoon  I  closed  a  deal  for  Cummings's  plant. 
Bought  Isaac  Cummings's  controlling  interest  and  for 
better  or  worse  the  darned  thing's  mine.  Please, 
everybody,  drink  to  good  luck!" 

"We  don't  know  what  it's  all  about,  but  we're  for 
you,  Tommy,"  cried  one  of  the  girls. 

"I  thought  you  said  you'd  never  do  it,  Tommy," 
said  Trenton,  smiling  at  his  friend  and  lifting  his 
champagne  glass,  reversed  as  it  had  stood  on  the 
table. 

Kemp  protested  that  this  was  bad  luck  and  ordered 
Jerry  to  serve  no  more  food  until  every  one  had  drunk 
to  the  success  of  the  merger.  This  brought  them  all 
to  their  feet  with  lifted  glasses. 

"Oh,  king,  live  forever!"  cried  Irene. 

"That's  something  like  it,"  said  Kemp.  "I  didn't 
mention  the  matter  just  to  advertise  my  business.  I 
wanted  you  to  know,  Grace,  that  it  gave  me  a  special 
satisfaction  on  your  account  to  see  Cummings  pass 
out.  It  was  a  downright  low  trick  he  played  on  your 
father.  Things  do  sort  o'  even  up  in  this  world  and 
this  struck  quick  and  hard.  When  Cummings  threw 
your  father  out  the  business  was  ripe  for  bankruptcy. 


354  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

Don't  let  Ward  scold  me.    He  advised  me  against  it." 

"I  advised  you  against  taking  on  new  responsibil- 
ities," Trenton  replied.  "You've  got  enough  on  your 
hands  now." 

"You  think  I'm  a  sick  man,"  said  Kemp.  "But  I'm 
going  to  see  you  all  under  the  sod.  I  like  this  world 
and  I'm  going  to  live  a  hundred  years.  Jerry,  fill  'em 
up!" 

There  was  more  food  than  anyone  needed  or  wanted 
and  when  Jerry  began  serving  dessert  Trenton  sug- 
gested to  Grace  that  they  leave  the  table.  Their  leav- 
ing evoked  loud  protests.  Irene  was  now  furiously 
angry  at  Kemp,  who  had  been  unable  to  resist  the  lure 
of  the  champagne,  a  vintage  without  duplicate  in  all 
America,  he  declared. 

The  gentleman  at  Grace's  left,  reduced  to  a  maudlin 
state  by  his  host's  generous  distribution  of  wine,  loudly 
importuned  her  not  to  go.  Kemp  announced  his  pur- 
pose to  make  a  speech  and  was  trying  to  get  upon  his 
feet  when  Irene  pulled  him  down.  One  of  the  visitors 
began  to  sing  and  seized  a  candle  from  the  table  with 
which  to  beat  time.  He  was  bawling,  "He's  a  jolly 
good  fellow,"  as  Grace  and  Trenton  effected  their 
escape. 

They  breathed  deep  of  the  clean  country  air  when 
they  reached  the  long  veranda  at  the  side  of  the  house. 

"Poor  Tommy;  I  suppose  there's  no  way  of  stop- 
ping him,"  remarked  Trenton. 

Both  were  aware  of  a  new  restraint  the  moment  they 
were  alone.  The  still  night  was  sweet  with  spring  and 
the  earth  seemed  subdued  by  the  mystery  of  green 
things  growing. 

Grace  walked  the  length  of  the  veranda,  then  back 
to  the  steps,  Trenton  beside  her.  He  was  still  trou- 
bled by  a  sense  of  responsibility  for  Kemp.  The  dis- 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  355 

cordant  noises  from  the  dining  room  followed  them 
and  they  debated  whether  they  should  try  to  break  up 
the  party  but  decided  against  it. 

"Let's  get  away  from  the  racket,"  said  Trenton. 
"When  I  suggested  coming  out  for  supper  it  didn't 
occur  to  me  that  Tommy  would  be  pulling  off  a  bac- 
chanalian feast.  Tommy's  incorrigible — dear  old 
Tommy!  But — we  must  talk.  Shall  we  go  up  yonder 
where  we  can  look  out  over  the  river?" 

The  stars  and  an  old  moon  that  stared  blandly 
across  the  heavens  made  the  path  easily  discernible. 
As  they  loitered  along  he  spoke  of  Kemp's  purchase  of 
the  Cummings  concern. 

"I  did  advise  Tommy  against  it,"  he  said,  "because 
of  the  additional  burdens  he'll  have  to  carry.  But  it's 
a  good  business  stroke.  He's  wiped  out  an  old  com- 
petitor and  with  your  father's  improvements  on  Cum- 
mings's  motor  Tommy's  going  to  be  greatly  strength- 
ened." 

"I've  been  afraid,"  said  Grace,  "that  father's  ideas 
wouldn't  prove  practical.  He's  seemed  terribly  wor- 
ried lately." 

"Only  the  usual  perplexities  of  a  genius  who's  worn 
out  from  long  application !  He  can  breathe  easy  now. 
The  motor's  going  to  be  a  wonder.  I  was  with  your 
father  all  day  and  he's  attained  every  excellence  he 
claimed.  You  have  every  reason  to  be  proud  of  him." 

"It's  all  your  kindness,"  she  murmured. 

"Oh,  not  a  bit  of  it!  There's  no  sentiment  about 
mechanics.  You've  either  got  it  or  you  haven't.  And 
your  father  is  sound  on  the  fundamentals  where  most 
inventors  are  weak." 

They  sat  down  on  a  rustic  bench  on  the  bluff  above 
the  river  and  he  threw  his  overcoat  across  her  knees. 
Above  them  towered  a  sycamore;  below  they  heard 


356  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

the  murmur  and  ripple  of  running  water.  He  put  his 
arm  about  her,  drew  her  close  and  kissed  her. 

"I  wish  it  were  all  true,  as  we  can  imagine  it  to 
be  in  this  quiet  place,  that  we're  absolutely  alone  in 
the  world — just  ourselves." 

"But  it  isn't  true;  we've  just  run  away  from  the 
world  for  a  little  while,"  she  said,  "but  I'm  glad  for 
this." 

She  laid  her  hand  on  his  and  gently  stroked  it. 

"I  hope  you  understood  why  I  didn't  go  yesterday 
as  I'd  intended.  I  couldn't  leave  without  explaining. 
I  couldn't  have  you  think  that  I  took  you  to  Miss 
Reynolds's  just  to  make  you  uncomfortable.  It  was 
my  mistake  and  a  stupid  blunder." 

"No;  the  mistake  was  mine,"  she  insisted.  "I 
realized  afterwards  that  my  first  feeling  was  right, 
that  it  was  foolish  to  go." 

"I  was  honest  about  it.  Mrs.  Trenton  had  led  me 
to  think  that  she  wouldn't  resent  meeting  any  woman 
who  promised  to  give  me  the  love  and  companionship 
it  wasn't  in  her  power  to  give  me.  I  took  her  at  her 
word.  You  understand  that,  don't  you?" 

"You  ought  to  have  known,  Ward,  and  so  should  I, 
that  no  woman  would  ever  have  anything  but  hatred 
for  another  woman  her  husband  falls  in  love  with." 

"But  what  I've  given  you  she  never  had!  I  want 
you  to  believe  me  when  I  say  that  I  was  really  de- 
ceived by  what  I  took  to  be  her  wholly  friendly  atti- 
tude." 

"It  doesn't  make  the  least  difference  now,  Ward. 
I  know  you  wouldn't  have  taken  me  to  see  her  if  you'd 
known  what  would  happen.  I'll  never  have  any  but 
the  kindest  thoughts  of  you.  Please  believe  that." 

She  moved  a  little  away  from  him  and  leaned  back, 
her  hands  relaxed  in  her  lap. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  357 

"It's  all  been  a  mistake — everything — from  the  be- 
ginning," she  went  on  in  a  low  voice. 

"My  loving  you  hasn't  bean  a  mistake,"  he  said 
earnestly.  "Nothing  has  changed  that  or  can  ever 
change  it." 

"You  merely  think  that.  If  you  didn't  see  me  for 
a  while  you'd  forget  me,"  she  said,  following  uncon- 
sciously the  ritual  of  unhappy  lovers  in  all  times. 

"No,"  he  gently  protested.  "That  isn't  the  way  of 
it.  You  don't  really  think  that.  Please  say  that  you 
don't." 

His  tone  of  pleading  caused  her  to  turn  to  him  and 
fling  her  arms  about  his  neck. 

"Oh,  I  love  you  so!    I  love  you  so!"  she  sobbed. 

His  face  was  wet  with  her  tears.  He  took  her  again 
into  his  arms,  turning  her  face  that  he  might  kiss  the 
tears  away.  Her  whole  body  shook  with  her  con- 
vulsive sobs. 

"Dearest  little  girl!    Poor,  dear  little  child!" 

In  the  branches  above  a  bird  fluttered  and  cheeped 
as  though  startled  in  its  dreaming.  She  freed  herself, 
sought  her  handkerchief  to  dry  her  eyes.  With  the 
impotence  of  man  before  a  woman's  grief  he  sought  to 
brush  back  a  wisp  of  hair  that  had  fallen  across  her 
cheek  and  his  hand  trembled.  Her  face  seemed  to 
hover  in  the  star  dusk;  he  saw  the  quiver  of  her  lashes, 
the  parted  lips,  felt  for  an  instant  the  throbbing  pulse 
in  her  throat. 

"I  knew  the  end  would  come,"  she  said,  with  a  deep 
sigh,  "But  I  didn't  know  it  would  be  like  this.  It's 
been  so  dear,  so  wonderful !  I  thought  it  would  go  on 
forever!" 

Her  gaze  was  upon  the  dark  uneven  line  of  the 
trees  across  the  river  where  they  brushed  the  stars. 


358  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

"But  it  isn't  the  end,  dear!  A  love  like  ours  can't 
die.  It  belongs  to  the  things  of  all  time." 

"Please,  Ward,"  she  said  impatiently,  drawing  her 
cloak  more  tightly  about  her  shoulders.  "Let's  not 
deceive  ourselves  any  more.  You  know  we  can't  go 
on,"  she  continued,  as  one  who  has  reasoned  through 
a  thing  and  reached  an  irrefutable  conclusion.  "It's 
all  been  like  a  dream;  but  dreams  don't  last.  And 
this  should  never  have  begun!" 

"You  break  my  heart  when  you  say  things  like 
that!  As  we've  said  so  many  times — it  all  had  to  be!" 

"We  were  fools  to  think  it  could  last,"  she  said. 
"But  it  was  more  my  fault  than  yours.  And  you've 
been  dear  and  kind— Oh,  so  beautifully  kind." 

"You've  trusted  me;  you've  proved  that!  You've 
never  doubted — you  don't  doubt  now  that  I  love  you!" 

"Oh,  it  does  no  good  to  talk — let's  just  be  quiet — 
I  do  love  you " 

"I  must  talk,"  he  replied  stubbornly.  "You  are  the 
dearest  thing  in  the  world  to  me.  I  couldn't  foresee 
what  happened.  It's  only  right  you  should  know 
what  occurred  after  you  left  Miss  Reynolds's." 

"No!  Please  no!  I  have  no  right  to  know;  and  it 
can  make  no  difference.  I  knew  it  was  all  over  when 
I  left  the  house,  but  I  did  want  to  see  you  once 
more " 

She  was  trying  to  be  brave  but  the  words  faltered 
and  died. 

"I  didn't  discuss  you,  try  to  explain  you  in  any  way. 
I  only  expressed  my  indignation  at  the  wholly  unneces- 
sary manner  in  which  Mrs.  Trenton  treated  you,  after 
encouraging  me  to  believe  that  you  would  be  treated 
with  every  courtesy.  I  suppose  it  was  jealousy  that 
prompted  her  to  speak  to  you  as  she  did.  Miss  Rey- 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  359 

nolds  came  in  at  once.  You  must  have  met  her — and 
I  took  leave  after  I'd  tried  to  cover  up  the  fact  that 
something  disagreeable  had  happened.  That  was  all." 

"It  was  enough.  There  wasn't  a  thing  you  could 
say.  Mrs.  Trenton  had  every  right  on  her  side.  I 
hope  you'll  go  back  to  her  and  tell  her  that  any  feeling 
you  had  for  me  was  just  a  mistake;  make  light  of  the 
whole  thing.  Of  course  she  loves  you.  If  she  didn't 
she  wouldn't  be  jealous.  There's  nothing  for  you  to 
do  now  but  to  make  your  peace  with  her.  Don't  trou- 
ble about  me.  I  don't  want  to  stand  in  the  way  of 
your  happiness." 

"Grace,"  he  said,  patient  in  spite  of  her  strained 
petulant  tone,  "there's  no  question  of  love  about  it. 
We  know  we  love  each  other;  but  we've  got  to  be 
sane  about  this." 

"Let's  not  talk  about  it,  Ward!  You  know  as  well 
as  I  do  that  we've  reached  the  end.  And  please,  dear, 
don't  make  it  harder  for  me  by  pretending  it  isn't.  I'm 
not  a  child,  you  know." 

"We're  not  going  to  pretend  anything,  Grace,  least 
of  all  we're  not  going  to  pretend  that  everything's 
over  when  we  know  we  couldn't  forget  if  we  wanted 
to.  But  we've  got  to  have  a  care  for  a  little  while  at 
least,  now  that  Mrs.  Trenton  knows  just  enough  to 
arouse  her  suspicions.  I  feel  my  responsibility  about 
you  very  seriously.  Please — won't  you  believe  me 
when  I  say  that  it's  of  you  I'm  thinking  first?  We 
might  go  on  seeing  each  other  as  we  have  been,  or  I 
might  take  you  away  with  me — I've  thought  of  that;1 
but  I've  thought  too  of  the  danger.  I  can't  promise 
you  that  Mrs.  Trenton  wouldn't  spy  upon  us, — do 
something  that  would  drag  you  into  the  newspapers, 
make  an  ugly  mess.  Her  prominence  would  make  at- 


360  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

tractive  newspaper  material  of  you  and  me,  too.  I 
love  you  too  dearly  to  take  any  chances.  Don't  you 
understand?  Isn't  it  better " 

"Oh,  please  stop,  Wardl  Don't  talk  to  me  as 
though  I  were  a  child  1  It  all  comes  to  the  same  thing, 
that  we  mustn't  see  each  other  any  more.  I  knew  it 
when  I  left  Miss  Reynolds's  yesterday.  It  would 
have  been  better  if  we  hadn't  come  out  here." 

"It  won't  be  forever,"  he  doggedly  persisted.  "In 
the  end  I'm  going  to  have  you.  I  want  you  to  remem- 
ber that." 

"Ward,  how  perfectly  foolish  of  you  to  talk  that 
wayl  If  we  were  to  go  on  as  we  have  been  we 
wouldn't  be  happy.  Let's  just  acknowledge  that  this 
is  the  last  time." 

"No,"  he  protested.  "It's  not  going  to  be  that  wayl 
You've  lost  your  courage  and  I  can't  blame  you  for 
seeing  things  black.  If  I  had  only  myself  to  consider 
I'd  run  away  with  you  tonight;  but  that  would  be  a 
despicable  thing  for  me  to  do.  I  love  you  too  much 
for  that!" 

The  protestation  of  his  love  brought  her  no  ease. 
She  was  half  angered  by  his  stubborn  refusal  to  face 
the  truth,  and  his  professed  belief  that  sometime  in 
some  way  they  were  to  be  reunited.  He  was  trying 
to  see  the  light  of  hope  ahead  where  all  was  dark  to 
her. 

It  was  strange  to  be  sitting  there  beside  him,  think- 
ing already  of  their  love  with  all  its  intimacies,  that 
had  seemed  to  bind  them  together  forever,  as  some- 
thing that  had  been  swept  into  a  past  from  which,  in 
a  little  while,  memory  would  cease  to  recall  it.  This 
was  love!  This  was  the  thing  that  had  been 
written  of  and  sung  of  in  all  the  ages;  and  it  was  a 
lure  contrived  only  to  bruise  and  break  and  destroy. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  361 

She  touched  the  lowest  depths  of  despair,  snatched 
away  her  hand  when  he  tried  to  possess  it;  thought  of 
him  for  an  instant  with  repulsion.  The  wistful  tender- 
ness of  the  night,  the  monotonous  ripple  of  water  be- 
neath, the  very  tranquillity  of  the  stars  seemed  to 
mock  and  taunt  her. 

He  waited  patiently,  silent,  impassive,  as  though  he 
knew  what  she  was  thinking  and  knew,  too,  that  such 
thoughts  were  inevitable  and  must  run  their  course. 

The  silence  fell  upon  her  like  a  soothing  hand.  The 
tumultuous  rush  of  her  thoughts  ceased;  she  was 
amazed  at  the  serenity  with  which  suddenly  she 
viewed  the  situation. 

He  was  finer  than  she,  wiser,  more  far  seeing. 
Something  in  his  figure,  in  his  dimly  etched  profile  in 
the  faint  starlight  touched  her  profoundly.  It  was 
selfish  of  her  to  forget  that  he  too  suffered.  He  was  a 
man  she  had  given  herself  to  without  reservation,  and 
with  all  the  honesty  and  fervor  of  her  young  heart,  and 
to  think  harshly  of  him  was  to  acknowledge  herself  a 
shameless  wanton,  no  better  than  a  girl  on  the  street. 
She  could  not  think  ill  of  him  without  debasing  her- 
self. And  she  did  love  him;  she  had  loved  him  from 
the  first,  and  it  was  not  the  way  of  love  to  wound. 

Perhaps  he  had  been  sincere  in  saying  that  he 
wished  to  protect  her — this  was  like  him,  and  it  was 
cruel  of  her  to  question  his  love,  to  fail  to  help  him 
when  he  sought  with  all  kindness  and  consideration 
to  find  some  hope  in  the  future.  They  must  part  and 
it  might  be  for  the  last  time,  but  she  would  not  send 
him  away  feeling  that  she  had  not  appreciated  all 
that  his  love  had  been  and  would  continue  to  be  to  her. 
Without  him,  without  some  knowledge  of  his  where- 
abouts and  activities  and  the  assurance  of  his  well- 
being,  life  would  be  unbearable.  She  was  all  tender- 


362  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

ness,  all  solicitude,  wholly  self-forgetful,  as  she  softly 
uttered  his  name. 

"Ward!"  her  arms  found  their  way  round  his  shoul- 
ders. "I'm  selfish, — I  was  thinking  that  you  taught 
me  to  love  you  only  to  thrust  me  away.  But  I  know 
better,  dear.  You  are  dearer  to  me  than  anything  in 
all  the  world — dearer  than  my  life  even  and  I  know 
you  mean  to  be  kind.  I  know  you  want  to  do  the 
right  thing  for  both  of  us." 

"Yes;  yes!"  he  whispered  eagerly  and  kissed  her 
gently  on  lips  and  eyes.  "If  we  truly  love  each  other 
there  will  be  some  way.  It  was  not  of  our  ordering — 
any  of  this." 

"Yes,  we  must  believe  that,  dear!  There  can  never 
be  any  man  for  me  but  you!" 

"And  no  woman  for  me  but  you!" 

They  clung  to  each  other,  silent,  fearing  to  utter 
even  the  reassuring  and  consoling  words  that  formed 
on  their  lips.  Beyond  the  river  a  train  passed  swiftly 
with  a  long  blast  of  the  locomotive. 

They  drew  apart,  listening  till  the  whistle's  last  echo 
and  the  rumble  of  cars  died  away.  Trenton  sighed 
deeply.  The  disturbance  had  been  an  unwelcome  re- 
minder of  the  energies  of  the  world  of  men  hidden  by 
the  night.  Grace  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"It's  been  so  dear  to  have  this  hour!  But,  we 
mustn't  meet  again.  Please  don't  ask  me  to  see  you — 
ever — not  in  any  way.  We'll  both  be  happier  if  what 
we  say  tonight  is  final.  We  can't  just  begin  over  again 
and  be  friends.  That  would  mean  forgetfulness — and 
we  can't  forget.  Please  don't  write  me.  I'm  going  to  be 
all  right.  I'll  be  happy  just  thinking  of  you.  We're 
both  brave  and  strong  and  knowing  that  will  help — 
won't  it,  dear?" 

He  knew  that  at  the  moment  at  least  she  was  the 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  363 

braver  and  stronger.  He  had  nothing  to  add  to  what 
she  had  said.  She  rose  and  took  his  face  in  her  hands 
and  kissed  him  gently,  passionlessly;  passed  her  hands 
across  his  eyes,  spoke  his  name  softly.  He  neither 
spoke  nor  responded  to  her  caresses. 

"Come,  dear!" 

She  touched  his  arm  lightly  and  started  down  the 
path.  He  waited  a  moment  before  following. 

She  talked  in  a  cheery  tone  of  irrelevant  things, 
laughed  merrily  when  she  lost  the  path;  and  so  they 
came  back  to  the  garden  where  the  lights  of  the  house 
confronted  them.  At  the  veranda  steps  he  caught  her 
suddenly  in  his  arms. 

"It  can't  be  like  this !  I'm  not  going  to  give  you  up! 
Tell  me  you  understand  that  it's  only  for  a  little 
while " 

"We're  not  going  to  talk  about  it  any  more — " 
she  said  without  a  quaver — with  even  a  little  ring  of 
confidence  in  her  voice.  But  she  suffered  his  kiss, 
yielded  for  a  moment  to  his  embrace. 

"I'll  love  you  always,  always,  always!"  she  said 
slowly. 

"I'll  love  you  till  I  die!"  he  replied.  They  stood 
with  hands  clasped  for  an  instant,  then  she  turned 
and  ran  into  the  house. 


Ill 


They  had  been  gone  more  than  an  hour  and  the 
other  members  of  the  party  stared  at  them  as  though 
they  were  intruders.  Two  of  the  men,  not  too  be- 
fuddled by  their  potations  to  remember  that  they  were 
leaving  town  by  a  midnight  train,  were  trying  to  con- 
vince Kemp  that  it  was  time  to  go.  Tommy  was  ex- 


364  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

plaining  elaborately  that  there  were  plenty  of  trains; 
that  if  there  was  anything  the  city  was  proud  of  it 
was  the  frequency  with  which  trains  departed  for  all 
points  of  the  compass. 

Irene  in  her  disgust  with  Kemp  for  exceeding  the 
limits  she  had  fixed  for  his  indulgence  in  the  prized 
champagne  had  retired  to  the  kitchen  to  talk  to  Jerry. 
Hearing  Trenton's  voice  expostulating  with  Tommy 
she  appeared,  and  announced  that  she  was  going 
home.  One  of  the  girls,  overcome  by  champagne  had 
retired  and  Irene  went  upstairs  to  see  what  could 
be  done  to  restore  her. 

"Ask  Jerry  for  some  black  coffee,  Grace,  that  will 
fix  her,"  said  Irene. 

She  confided  to  Grace  her  indignation  at  the  young 
woman  for  not  behaving  herself;  she  was  disappointed 
in  her.  A  girl,  she  declared,  shouldn't  go  on  a  party 
if  she  hadn't  any  more  sense  than  to  get  drunk.  How- 
ever, she  ministered  to  the  young  woman  effectively 
and  kindly. 

Trenton  got  the  three  visiting  gentlemen  and  the 
young  women  who  had  accompanied  them  into  a  ma- 
chine and  dispatched  them  to  town  and  resumed  his 
efforts  to  persuade  Kemp  to  go  home.  Kemp  wished 
to  discuss  with  Trenton  his  business  plans  for  the  fu- 
ture. He  wanted  Trenton  to  promise  to  move  to  In- 
dianapolis immediately  to  assist  him  in  the  management 
of  his  plant.  Finding  Trenton  unwilling  to  commit  him- 
self Kemp  fixed  his  attention  upon  Irene.  He  became 
tearful  as  he  talked  of  Irene.  She  was  the  most  beauti- 
ful girl  in  the  world,  and  she  had  brightened  his  life;  he 
would  always  be  grateful  to  her.  And  now  that  she 
had  grown  tired  of  what  he  called  their  little  arrange- 
ment, he  wanted  her  to  be  happy.  He  wished  Tren- 
ton and  Grace  to  bear  witness  that  he  bore  no  hard 
feeling  but  wished  her  well.  If  at  any  time  Irene 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  365 

needed  help  of  any  kind  it  would  break  his  heart  if 
she  didn't  appeal  to  him. 

Finding  that  the  others  were  impatient  at  the  delay 
these  deliverances  were  causing  he  assumed  an  injured 
air  and  bade  them  take  him  home.  They  didn't  love 
him;  nobody  loved  him.  When  finally  they  got  him 
out  to  the  big  touring  car  he  insisted  that  he  would  do 
the  driving  and  this  called  for  a  long  argument  before 
he  was  dissuaded.  He  refused  to  enter  the  car  at  all 
until  the  others  were  settled  in  the  back  seat.  He 
guessed  he  knew  the  demands  of  hospitality!  Craig 
roused  his  ire  by  attempting  to  help  him  in  and  he 
waited  till  the  chauffeur  was  seated  and  ready  to  start 
before  he  would  move.  Then  he  adjusted  one  of  the 
disappearing  seats,  got  in  and  began  an  ironical  lec- 
ture on  the  instability  of  friendship.  Some  of  his  re- 
marks were  amusing  and  they  encouraged  him  to  go 
on  feeling  that  so  long  as  they  manifested  interest  he 
would  not  revive  the  question  of  driving  to  the  various 
points  he  had  proposed  as  attractive  places  to  run  for 
breakfast.  He  announced  suddenly  that  he  had  al- 
ways wanted  to  visit  the  Tippecanoe  Battle  Ground 
and  demanded  an  opinion  from  Craig  as  to  how  long 
it  would  take  to  drive  there.  He  was  irritated  because 
the  chauffeur  professed  not  to  know  the  route;  he  de- 
clared that  he  would  get  even  with  Craig  for  lying  to 
him. 

He  became  quiet  presently  and  Trenton  tried  to  in- 
terest him  in  a  description  of  a  mechanical  stoker  that 
had  lately  been  put  on  the  market. 

"I  mus'  look  into  it,"  said  Kemp.  "Awfu'  nice  of 
you  to  tell  me  'bout  it,  Ward." 

Then  before  they  knew  what  he  was  about  he 
clutched  the  back  of  the  front  seat  and  threw  one  leg 
over.  He  swayed  toward  the  driver  and  to  steady 
himself  grabbed  the  wheel. 


366  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

Craig,  believing  Kemp  wholly  interested  in  Tren- 
ton's talk,  was  caught  off  guard.  The  car,  which  had 
been  running  swiftly  over  the  smooth  road,  swerved 
sharply  and  plunged  into  the  deep  drainage  ditch  that 
paralleled  the  road.  As  the  radiator  struck  the  further 
side  of  the  ditch  Kemp  was  thrown  forward  and  his 
head  crashed  against  the  windshield  with  terriffic  force. 

The  three  passengers  on  the  back  seat  were  pitched 
violently  to  the  floor.  Craig  had  shut  off  the  motor 
instantly  and  jumped  out,  and  when  Trenton  joined 
him  in  the  road  he  was  tearing  off  the  curtains. 

"Get  your  flash,  Craig,"  Trenton  said.  But  with- 
out waiting  for  the  light  he  thrust  in  his  arms  and 
lifted  Kemp  out.  Irene  and  Grace  had  crawled  out 
and  stood  in  the  road  clinging  to  each  other  and  hys- 
terically demanding  to  know  what  had  happened  to 
Tommy. 

Craig  jerked  out  the  seat  cushions  and  Trenton 
laid  Kemp  upon  them.  The  flashlight  showed 
Kemp's  face  deathly  white  and  smeared  with  blood. 
Trenton  was  on  his  knees,  his  head  against  the  stricken 
man's  heart.  He  looked  up  with  a  startled  awed  look 
and  shook  his  head. 

"God!"  he  said  under  his  breath. 

"Oh,  Ward!     Not  that!"  faltered  Irene,  "Not " 

"No — No!  We  must  keep  our  heads!  Craig  1 
What's  the  quickest  way  of  getting  help?" 

"Ward — Oh,  Tommy,  Tommy!"  cried  Irene,  drop- 
ping on  her  knees  and  taking  Kemp's  head  in  her 
arms. 

"Don't  Irene — don't!"  moaned  Grace  helplessly. 

"There's  a  house  a  quarter  of  a  mile  ahead  where 
I  can  telephone,"  Craig  said.  "I  know  the  farmer; 
you  can  rely  on  him." 

"Just  a  minute,"  said  Trenton,  looking  at  his  watch. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  367 

"There  are  things  to  consider.    We've  got  to  think 
of  Tommy  first  of  all.     Craig,  I  can  count  on  you 


"Yes,  certainly,  sir.  I'm  afraid  it  was  my  fault; 
I  ought  to  have  been  watching.  But  I  thought  -  " 

"You  were  no  more  to  blame  than  I  was.  We  can't 
discuss  that  now.  We've  got  to  take  care  of  this  in  a 
way  that  will  protect  Tommy,  and  you  girls  mustn't 
figure  in  it  at  all." 

"We  understand  all  that;  we'll  do  anything  you 
say,  Ward,"  sobbed  Irene. 

"I'm  trying  to  think  of  some  one  we  can  trust  to 
help,"  said  Trenton.  "There  will  be  many  things  to 
do  immediately." 

"I  wonder,"  said  Irene  turning  to  Grace,  "whether 
we  could  reach  John  Moore." 

"There's  no  one  better!"  Grace  eagerly  assented. 
"We  could  telephone  him  at  his  boarding  house." 

Trenton  asked  a  few  questions  about  Moore  and  be- 
gan instructing  Craig  as  to  the  persons  he  was  to  call 
by  telephone;  first  a  physician,  who  was  also  an  inti- 
mate friend  of  the  Kemps  and  two  of  Kemp's  neigh- 
bors, well  known  to  Trenton. 

"Kemp  and  I  had  been  to  The  Shack  for  dinner  — 
alone  —  Jerry  and  the  cateress  must  be  taken  care  of  as 
to  that.  Tommy  was  driving  home.  Something  went 
wrong  with  the  car  and  it  ran  off  into  the  ditch.  How 
about  that,  Craig?" 

"I  wouldn't  say,  Mr.  Trenton,  that  Mr.  Kemp  was 
driving.  The  driver  in  such  accidents  is  seldom  hurt. 
We'd  better  say  the  car  simply  struck  a  stone  and 
swerved." 

Craig  hurriedly  suggested  possible  explanations  of 
a  deflection  that  would  ditch  a  car  at  this  point. 

"Yes;    that's  better,"  Trenton  agreed. 


368  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

"If  the  young  ladies  could  go  into  town  on  an  inter- 
urban  car  that  would  help,"  said  Craig.  "It's  only  a 
little  way  to  a  stop  on  the  crossroad  back  yonder. 
There'll  be  a  car  passing  at  half-past  twelve." 

These  matters  hastily  determined,  Craig  hurried 
away,  the  quick  patter  of  his  feet  on  the  macadam 
suggesting  the  flight  of  a  malevolent  fate  that  had 
struck  its  blow  and  was  flying  from  the  scene. 

Tommy  Kemp  was  dead.  There  was  no  question 
but  that  he  had  died  instantly,  either  from  the  violent 
blow  on  the  head  or  from  a  failure  of  the  heart  due 
to  the  shock  of  his  precipitation  against  the  windshield. 

No  cars  had  passed  since  the  accident,  but  as  they 
were  on  a  highway  Trenton  urged  Irene  and  Grace  to 
go  at  once. 

"You  mustn't  be  seen  here.  It's  horrible  enough 
without  having  you  mixed  up  in  it." 

Irene  bent  down  and  touched  the  quiet  face,  mur- 
muring: 

"It's  cruel  to  leave  him  like  this!  Poor  boy!  Poor 
dear  Tommy  1" 


IV 


Grace  and  Irene  had  worn  hats  on  the  tragic  ad- 
venture and  their  long  dark  cloaks  covered  their  party 
dresses  so  that  their  entrance  into  the  interurban  car 
awakened  little  interest  in  the  half-dozen  dozing  pas- 
sengers. Fortunately  Grace  had  her  purse  and  paid 
the  fares.  The  swift  rush  of  the  car  exerted  a  quieting 
effect  upon  them.  Irene  had  wrenched  her  shoulder 
when  the  machine  leaped  into  the  ditch,  but  Grace  had 
escaped  with  only  a  few  scratches.  They  conferred  in 
low  tones,  still  dazed  by  their  close  contact  with  death. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  369 

"I  ought  to  have  insisted  on  going  home  earlier. 
But  I  did  the  best  I  could.  Tommy  wouldn't  budge. 
Tell  me  that  I  did  the  best  I  could!" 

"Of  course  you  did!  We  should  never  have  gone — 
any  of  us! "  said  Grace.  "I'm  as  much  to  blame  as  any 
one.  But  Tommy  would  have  gone  anyhow,  you  know 
he  would." 

"Ward's  wonderful,"  said  Irene.  "I'll  never  forget 
him  as  he  stood  there  beside  Tommy  as  we  left.  Those 
men  loved  each  other;  and  Tommy  was  good,  Grace. 
I'm  glad  I  had  it  out  with  him — about  quitting  I  mean. 
He  was  sober  then;  perfectly  all  right.  It  was  just 
before  you  and  Ward  came  back  that  he  began  drink- 
ing crazily.  When  I  told  him  I  thought  it  was  all 
wrong  and  that  I  wanted  to  quit  he  talked  to  me  in  the 
finest  way.  He  said  he  wouldn't  let  me  think  I  could 
be  better  than  he  was  and  he  was  going  to  live  straight 
the  rest  of  his  life.  But  Tommy  would  never  have 
quit.  There  would  always  have  been  some  girl;  and 
he  just  had  to  have  his  parties.  I  suppose  there's  no 
use  worrying  about  that!" 

"No,"  Grace  consoled  her,  "things  just  have  to  be. 
You  can't  change  anything.  Ward  and  I  said  good- 
bye to  each  other  tonight.  So  that's  all  over." 

"I'm  not  so  sure,"  Irene  replied  after  a  deliberate 
inspection  of  Grace's  face.  "I  wouldn't  count  much 
on  Ward  giving  you  up.  Love  is  a  strange  thing. 
You'll  go  on  loving  each  other  and  breaking  your 
hearts  about  it  and  then  some  day  you'll  meet  and 
things  will  begin  all  over  again.  I've  always  been 
pretty  cynical  about  these  things,  but  I  know  love 
when  I  see  it.  It's " 

"Don't,  Irene!"  whispered  Grace,  a  sob  in  her 
throat.  "I  can't  bear  it!  To  think  of  Tommy " 

Her  hand  stole  out  and  clasped  Irene's.    The  events 


370  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

of  the  night  had  made  upon  both  an  impression  that 
never  could  be  effaced.  Aware  of  this,  silence  held 
them  until  the  lights  of  the  station  flashed  upon  the 
windows. 

Moore  was  on  the  platform,  and  they  found  a  quiet 
corner  of  the  waiting  room  where  Irene  told  the  story 
of  the  accident.  John  expressed  no  surprise,  made 
no  criticism;  merely  said  that  he  was  proud  that  they 
had  thought  of  him.  Trenton  had  suggested  that  they 
ask  Moore  to  visit  the  newspaper  offices  and  then  go 
to  Kemp's  house — Mrs.  Kemp  was  still  away — and 
notify  the  servants.  John's  practical  mind  had  con- 
sidered every  aspect  of  the  matter  after  his  brief  talk 
with  Craig  over  the  telephone  and  he  had  already  dis- 
patched the  coroner  to  the  scene  of  the  accident  that 
there  might  be  no  delay  or  subsequent  criticism. 

"The  sooner  you  both  get  home  the  better,"  he 
said.  "We'll  decide  now  that  you  were  both  with  me 
all  evening.  I'll  account  for  my  knowledge  of  the 
accident  by  explaining  to  the  newspapers  that  Mr. 
Kemp's  chauffeur  called  me  on  the  telephone  after 
trying  to  get  Judge  Sanders,  who's  Kemp's  lawyer 
and  an  old  friend.  It  happens  that  the  judge  left 
for  Washington  tonight.  I  think  that  covers  it  all." 

It  was  not  until  Grace  had  crept  into  bed  that  she 
was  able  to  think  clearly.  It  was  like  a  hideous 
dream  that  Kemp  was  dead — that  she  had  seen  him 
die.  His  death  obscured  the  memory  of  her  parting 
with  Trenton,  or  blending  with  it,  became  a  part 
of  the  dissolution  of  all  things.  Alone  in  the  dark, 
remorse  stole  upon  her  like  a  nightmare.  From  the 
hour  that  she  had  met  Kemp  and  Trenton  a  doom 
had  followed  her.  In  a  few  short  months  she  had 
played  havoc  with  her  life.  She  groped  back  to 
her  days  at  the  University — happy  days,  they  were; 
days  of  clean  wholesome  living  and  buoyant  aspira- 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  371 

tion.  And  she  never  could  be  the  same  carefree  girl 
again. 

It  was  not  till  near  dawn  that  she  slept,  to  be  wak- 
ened by  her  mother  a  little  before  the  prompting  of 
the  alarm  clock. 

"Something  awful's  happened,  Grace.  Thomas 
Kemp  died  last  night,  on  the  way  home  from  his 
farm.  There  was  an  accident  to  his  car  but  the  paper 
says  he  died  of  heart  disease.  Mr.  Trenton  was  with 
him.  Your  father's  terribly  upset;  he  doesn't  know 
how  it  will  affect  his  prospects.  It's  a  strange  part 
of  it  that  only  yesterday  Kemp  closed  a  deal  for  the 
purchase  of  the  Cummings  Company.  The  paper 
says  he'd  gone  out  to  the  farm  with  Mr.  Trenton 
to  talk  over  the  merger." 

It  was  necessary  for  Grace  to  hear  Kemp's  death 
discussed  in  all  its  bearings  at  the  breakfast  table. 
The  talk  was  chiefly  between  her  mother  and  Ethel, 
Durland  merely  confirming  or  correcting,  when  ap- 
pealed to,  their  statements  as  to  items  of  the  dead 
man's  history.  They  speculated  fruitlessly  as  to  the 
fate  of  Kemp's  business  interests,  and  how  much  he 
was  worth  and  whether  he  had  left  large  sums  to 
charity. 

Grace  read  the  account  of  the  accident  and  the  long 
biographical  sketch  of  Kemp  while  this  was  in  prog- 
ress. Trenton  and  Moore  had  managed  the  thing 
well.  Trenton's  statement  as  to  the  manner  of  his 
friend's  death  bore  every  mark  of  veracity,  and  it  was 
fortified  by  the  coroner's  report  and  a  statement  from 
Kemp's  physician. 

"I  suppose,"  remarked  Ethel,  "that  Irene  Kirby 
will  be  terribly  shocked.  It's  a  wonder  she  wasn't 
with  him.  They  were  always  gadding  about  the  coun- 
try together.  I'm  relieved,  Grace,  that  you  weren't 
mixed  up  in  this  mess." 


372  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

"Don't  speak  so  to  your  sister,  Ethel,"  admonished 
Mrs.  Durland.  "There  are  things  about  Mr.  Kemp 
I  never  knew.  It  seems  he  gave  large  sums  to  some 
of  our  needy  institutions  and  wouldn't  let  it  be  known. 
And  he  was  beautiful  to  all  his  employees.  It's  not 
for  us  to  say  he  wasn't  a  good  man." 


"Well,"  said  Irene,  the  day  after  Kemp's  funeral, 
"I  hope  Tommy  knows  all  the  fine  things  that  have 
been  said  about  him.  I  cried  when  I  read  about  the 
poor  people  who  went  to  his  house  just  to  look  at  him 
again — people  he'd  helped  in  their  troubles  for  years, 
and  you  can  be  sure  he  always  did  it  with  a  smile. 
I  met  Ward  as  I  was  coming  down  this  morning.  He 
was  on  his  way  to  Judge  Sanders's  office  and  didn't 
see  me  till  I  spoke  to  him.  You'd  think  he'd  lost 
his  own  brother!  He  asked  about  you  and  said  to 
tell  you  not  to  worry  about  anything.  And  he  smiled 
in  that  wistful  way  he  has.  He  said  he  might  be 
kept  here  some  time." 

"Oh,  I  hope  not!"  Grace  cried,  and  her  eyes  filled 
with  tears. 

She  was  already  trying  to  accustom  herself  to  the 
idea  that  they  were  never  to  meet  again  and  the 
prospect  of  encountering  him  filled  her  with  mingled 
hope  and  dismay.  A  few  days  later  when  Kemp's 
will  was  published  her  heart  bounded  as  she  read  that 
the  testator  had  appointed  Trenton  the  managing 
trustee  of  Kemp's  industrial  enterprises,  and  that 
he  would  in  all  likelihood  become  a  resident  of  In- 
dianapolis. His  picture  was  published,  with  a  lauda- 
tory account  of  his  career.  The  purchase  of  the 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  373 

Cummings  concern,  which  was  consummated  on  the 
day  of  Kemp's  death,  greatly  increased  the  responsi- 
bilities of  the  trustee,  who  was  to  serve  for  a  period 
of  ten  years. 

It  was  with  confused  sensations  of  happy  pride  and 
poignant  heartache  that  Grace  read  all  this.  At  home 
it  was  necessary  constantly  to  play  a  part,  to  feign 
indifference  as  to  Trenton's  suddenly  attained  promi- 
nence, while  her  mother  and  Ethel  reviewed  daily  all 
the  potentialities  of  the  situation  as  it  affected  Stephen 
Durland,  who  stolidly  refrained  from  expressing  any 
opinion  as  to  what  bearing  Kemp's  death  might  have 
on  his  personal  affairs. 

The  complexities  of  her  life  seemed  to  Grace  enor- 
mously multiplied.  Trenton  was  there — in  town- 
no  doubt  walking  at  times  the  streets  she  traversed 
going  to  and  from  her  work,  and  she  could  not  see 
him — must  never  see  him  again!  If  only  the  family 
affairs  were  less  perplexing — Roy's  future,  clouded  by 
his  marriage,  dominated  all  the  domestic  coun- 
cils— she  could  leave;  go  where  the  remembrance  of 
him  would  be  less  an  hourly  torture. 

In  combating  her  longing  to  see  him  she  sought 
comfort  in  the  thought  that  his  new  duties  would 
help  him  to  forget;  and  she  wanted  him  to  forget. 
With  his  nature  he  was  sure  to  be  profoundly  affected 
by  his  friend's  death  and  the  confidence  Kemp  had 
reposed  in  him  even  from  the  grave.  She  found  a  cer- 
tain luxury  of  sorrow  in  these  thoughts;  she  wanted 
him  to  be  happy,  even  if  his  happiness  were  to  be  won 
only  by  forgetting  her. 


CHAPTER  FIFTEEN 


Miss  REYNOLDS  called  Grace  on  the  telephone  a 
week  after  Kemp's  death  and  with  her  usual  kindly 
peremptoriness  demanded  that  Grace  dine  with  her 
the  following  night. 

"I  went  away  unexpectedly  and  didn't  have  a  chance 
to  let  you  know.  I've  got  something  I  want  to  talk 
to  you  about — just  you  and  me.  Please  come!" 

Grace  was  ashamed  not  to  manifest  more  cordiality 
in  accepting  the  invitation  but  she  was  beset  by  fears 
lest  Miss  Reynolds  was  seizing  the  first  possible  mo- 
ment to  question  her  as  to  her  singular  conduct  at 
the  door  on  the  afternoon  when  she  had  gone  to  the 
house  with  Trenton.  And  that  seemed  long  ago,  hid- 
den by  the  black  wall  of  an  impenetrable  past. 

Miss  Reynolds  called  for  her  at  Shipley's  at  the 
closing  hour  and  greeted  her  as  though  nothing  had 
happened.  She  had  been  summoned  to  Baltimore 
on  business,  she  explained.  She  talked  in  her  brisk 
fashion  throughout  the  dinner, — of  impersonal  mat- 
ters, not  mentioning  the  Trentons  at  all  until  they 
were  settled  in  the  living  room. 

"After  all,  I  think  I  prefer  plain  bread-and-butter 
people — plain  folks.  A  woman  traveling  with  a  maid 
and  pretending  to  be  keen  about  poor  suffering  hu- 
manity seems  to  me  a  good  deal  of  a  joke.  Mrs.  Tren- 
ton did  one  thing  for  me  though  and  I  ought  to  be 
grateful  for  that, — she  sent  me  scampering  back  to  the 
conservatives!  I'd  been  just  a  little  infected  with  some 

374 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  375 

of  these  new  ideas,  but  after  having  that  woman  in 
my  house  two  days  and  hearing  her  talk  and  seeing 
how  fussy  she  is  about  her  personal  comfort,  I'm  for 
hanging  on  to  the  old  fogy  notions  a  while  longer." 

As  Miss  Reynolds  continued  her  dissection  of  Mrs. 
Trenton's  social  program,  Grace  felt  suddenly  a  strong 
impulse  to  tell  her  friend  the  whole  story  of  her  ac- 
quaintance with  Trenton.  In  a  way  Miss  Reynolds 
had  a  right  to  know.  She  waited,  wondering  how  she 
could  begin  and  what  her  friend  would  say,  when 
Miss  Reynolds  said  in  her  characteristically  abrupt 
fashion: 

"Look  here,  little  girl,  you've  got  something  on 
your  mind;  you  haven't  been  listening  to  me  at  all! 
You  needn't  be  afraid  of  me;  I'm  a  queer  old  person 
but  sometimes  I  do  understand.  I  wouldn't  force 
your  confidence;  you  know  that, — but — why  you  dear 
child!" 

Grace's  eyes  had  filled  with  tears.  Miss  Reynolds 
crossed  to  her  quickly. 

"How  clumsy  I  am!  I  wouldn't  hurt  you  for 
worlds,  dear!" 

She  sat  down  on  a  stool  at  Grace's  feet  and  drew 
the  girl's  hands  into  her  own. 

"Poor  dear  heart,"  she  murmured  softly.  "It's  an 
awful  big  old  world  and  little  girls  do  sometimes  get 
hurt — and  lost.  Maybe  you'd  like  me  to  call  the  car 
and  take  you  for1  a  drive." 

"No;  I  want  to  tell  you;  I've  got  to  tell  you.  But 
I'm  afraid  if  I  do " 

"You  couldn't  tell  me  anything  that  would  make  me 
stop  loving  you,"  Miss  Reynolds  replied  gently.  .  . . 

Grace  spared  herself  in  nothing.  She  told  the  whole 
story,  told  it  as  a  child  might  confess  a  grievous  fault 
at  a  mother's  knee,  described  the  spirit  of  revolt 


376  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

in  which  she  had  thought  to  ignore  the  old  barriers, 
scorned  the  safeguards  that  had  offered  protection, 
exulted  in  her  freedom.  And  now,  appalled  by  the 
consequences  of  her  treason  she  found  herself  de- 
fenceless, groping  for  the  support  of  the  very  wall 
that  she  had  contemptuously  disregarded.  Her  day 
of  rebellion  was  past;  she  was  now  eager  to  be  re- 
ceived again  into  the  ancient  citadel. 

"I  think,"  she  said  finally,  "that  that's  all." 

Then  for  the  first  time  Miss  Reynolds  looked  up 
at  her.  Her  eyes  were  wet. 

"Dear  little  girl,"  she  began  and  then  was  silent 
for  a  time,  gently  stroking  the  girl's  hands. 

"I  guessed  there  was  something  wrong,  of  course," 
she  went  on,  "when  I  met  you  in  the  hall  that  day. 
When  I  went  in  I  saw  right  away  that  my  interrup- 
tion was  unfortunate.  But  Mrs.  Trenton  very  calmly 
introduced  me  to  her  husband.  We  talked  a  moment 
and  he  left.  As  he  went  out  he  merely  bowed  to  her 
without  saying  anything.  He  struck  me  as  being  a 
gentleman — none  of  the  look  of  a  dissolute  person, 
certainly  a  handsome  man — a  highbred  look  and  air." 

"Oh,  tell  me  you  saw  the  fineness,  the  nobility  in 
him!  I  couldn't  bear  to  have  you  hate  him!" 

"Why,  no,  I  don't  hate  him.  I'm  only  sorry  for 
both  of  youl  But — I  don't  think  you  quite  under- 
stand— well,  that  as  individuals  we  are  responsible  to 
those  who  have  prior  claims  upon  our  consideration. 
For  the  sake  of  happiness  to  the  greater  number  we 
must  often  give  up  our  own  happiness.  Many  beau- 
tiful and  noble  women  have  done  that." 

"Oh,  I  love  him!    I  love  him  so!"  moaned  the  girl. 

"Yes,  I  believe  you  do,  dear.  It's  pitiful — the 
whole  thing.  Be  sure  I  feel  for  you;  I  want  to  help 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  377 

Miss  Reynolds  rose  and  took  a  turn  across  the 
room. 

"It's  in  his  favor  that  he  realized  the  thing  couldn't 
go  on;  that  for  your  sake  it  had  to  stop.  That  woman 
might  easily  ruin  your  life;  and  of  course  she  has 
the  right  on  her  side." 

"Yes, — yes,  I  know.  I've  no  justification  at  all 
except — except — I  love  him." 

"Yes,  I  understand.  I  believe  you  truly  love 
him;  but  now  its  my  business  as  your  friend  to  urge 
you  to  forget.  I  realize  that  it  won't  be  easy.  It 
would  simplify  matters  if  you  could  go  away, — see 
other  people,  develop  new  interests." 

"Yes;  I'd  thought  of  that,"  Grace  replied.  '"But 
I  can't  leave  home;  there  are  difficulties;  it  wouldn't 
be  kind." 

"No;  I  understand  that.  But  that  brings  me  to  the 
matter  I  asked  you  here  to  talk  about.  I  want  to 
equip  a  house  which  self-supporting  young  women 
can  manage  entirely  by  themselves  with  the  fewest 
possible  restrictions,  not  an  institution — I  hate  the 
word — but  a  club.  You  notice  I'm  not  smoking!" 
Miss  Reynolds  smiled.  "Well,  Mrs.  Trenton  cured 
me  of  that;  she  left  me  bored  with  the  whole  business 
of  being  an  emancipated  woman.  I've  got  the  idea 
that  the  house  I  propose  can  set  a  standard  of  morals 
and  manners — something  that  will  be  good  for  the 
whole  community.  But  there  mustn't  be  a  lot  of  re- 
strictions. I  want  the  girls  who  live  there  to  use  it 
as  though  it  were  their  own  home.  I  have  every  con- 
fidence that  they'll  make  a  happy  household  with  just 
a  little  sympathy  and  encouragement,  and,"  she 
smiled,  "I  hope — my  example!" 

"It's  perfectly  wonderful!"  cried  Grace.  "And  it's 
just  like  you!" 


378  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

"Humph!  It's  perfectly  selfish  on  my  part;  I  ex- 
pect to  have  a  lot  of  fun  getting  it  started;  maybe  the 
girls  will  let  me  dig  in  the  garden  now  and  then. 
There'll  be  a  garden  and  tennis  courts,  and  they  must 
have  a  dance  once  a  week,  and  I  might  drop  in  occa- 
sionally." 

"Oh,  they'll  adore  you!" 

"Well,  I  don't  mean  to  bother  them.  There  are 
such  houses  in  New  York  and  Chicago  and  I'm  going 
to  visit  them  and  get  all  the  practical  ideas  I  can 
before  I  say  anything  about  it.  I  need  some  one  to 
help  me  collect  data  and  look  after  the  thousand 
and  one  details  of  planning.  We'll  call  it  a  secretary- 
ship. Now,  Grace,"  and  Miss  Reynolds  beamed  on 
her,  "will  you  help  me?" 

"Why,  Miss  Reynolds!" 

"It  might  be  just  what  you  need  right  now,"  Miss 
Reynolds  went  on,  ignoring  the  girl's  questioning, 
troubled  look.  "In  fact,  my  dear  child,  you  put  the 
whole  idea  in  my  head  by  things  you've  dropped  from 
time  to  time  about  the  problems  of  young  business 
women." 

"But  now — since  you  know " 

"Dear  child,  it's  knowing  that  makes  me  all  the 
more  eager  to  have  your  help!  It's  only  people  who 
make  mistakes  and  suffer  that  really  understand.  And 
we've  got  to  have  some  heart  in  our  club!  So  we'll 
call  it  settled  and  we'll  go  to  New  York  two  weeks 
from  today  and  begin  our  work." 


II 


Grace's  announcement  at  home  that  she  was  to 
leave  Shipley's  to  become  Miss  Reynold's  secretary 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  379 

greatly  pleased  her  mother,  who  saw  in  the  change 
a  social  advancement.  It  was  much  more  in  keeping 
with  her  idea  of  the  Durland  dignity  for  a  daughter 
of  the  house  to  serve  a  lady  of  wealth  as  secretary 
than  to  be  selling  ready-made-clothing.  And  Mrs. 
Durland  hoped  Grace  would  appreciate  the  privilege 
of  becoming  identified  with  so  praiseworthy  a  philan- 
thropy. 

Ethel,  possibly  jealous  of  Miss  Reynolds's  growing 
interest  in  Grace,  expressed  at  once  her  concern  as 
to  proper  religious  influences  in  the  proposed  club. 
She  confessed  to  disappointment  that  Miss  Reynolds 
had  not  manifested  more  interest  in  the  girls'  club 
in  Dr.  Ridgely's  church.  Miss  Reynolds  might  very 
easily  have  given  the  church  the  benefit  of  the  money 
she  would  spend  on  an  independent  work.  It  was  not 
quite  loyal,  she  thought,  to  the  church  and  all  it  stood 
for;  but  she  hoped  the  souls  of  the  young  women  who 
lived  in  the  club  would  be  properly  cared  for  and  that 
Dr.  Ridgely  would  be  on  the  board;  she  favored  strong 
boards  to  administer  such  institutions. 

"There  ain't  goin'  to  be  no  board,"  Grace  answered 
cheerily,  "of  the  kind  you  mean.  The  girls  are  going 
to  run  the  place  themselves." 

"Then  it  won't  last  long.  I  have  no  faith  in  such 
things." 

"Better  get  some,  Sis.  Miss  Reynolds  knows  what 
she's  about.  She's  hoping  others  will  follow  her 
example  and  make  a  chain  of  such  clubs." 

Grace  learned  from  her  father  that  there  had  been 
no  developments  in  the  motor  since  Kemp's  death;: 
he  didn't  know  where  he  stood,  but  Trenton  had  been 
encouraging  as  to  the  outcome.  The  reorganization 
made  necessary  by  the  absorption  of  the  Cummings 
concern  was  causing  the  delay,  Durland  thought. 


380  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

"Trenton's  a  busy  man  these  days,  but  he's  spent 
several  evenings  with  me  at  the  shop.  He's  a  big 
man;  he  knows  what  he's  about  and  he's  been  mighty 
fine  to  me." 

"I'm  glad  of  that,  daddy.  I'm  sure  Mr.  Trenton 
would  tell  you  if  he  didn't  mean  to  go  through  with  it." 

"I  think  you're  right,  Grace.  It's  a  little  hard 
waiting — and  I've  done  a  lot  of  waiting  in  my  time." 

"You  dear!  We've  got  to  believe  the  patient  waiter 
gets  the  biggest  tips — that's  our  slogan!" 

She  tapped  him  lightly  on  the  shoulder  as  she 
spoke,  keeping  time  to  her  words.  He  didn't  know 
how  his  praise  of  Trenton  had  warmed  her  heart. 
The  fact  that  he  saw  Trenton  and  no  doubt  would 
continue  to  meet  him  frequently  gave  her  father  a 
new  interest  in  her  eyes. 

Grace  saw  Miss  Reynolds  every  few  days,  and  was 
finding  relief  and  happiness  in  the  prospect  of  her 
new  work.  Irene  expressed  the  greatest  satisfaction 
when  Grace  told  her  that  she  was  leaving  Shipley's. 

"It's  more  in  your  line,  Grace.  And  I  certainly 
hand  it  to  Little  Old  Ready-Money  for  having  the 
sense  to  appreciate  you.  If  she  haoln't  been  the  real 
goods  she'd  have  backed  away  when  you  told  her  about 
Ward.  Some  woman,  I  say!  It  does  sort  of  cheer 
things  up  to  know  there  are  people  like  that  in  the 
world.  By  the  way,  have  you  seen  John  lately?" 

"Not  since  Tommy  died." 

"Well,  there's  another  of  the  saints!"  said  Irene. 
"He's  pretending  now  he  doesn't  know  we  were  on 
a  wild  party  and  that  he  saved  our  reputations.  He 
won't  talk  about  it;  not  at  all!  So  don't  try  to  thank 
him.  Tommy's  estate  is  going  through  Sanders's  of- 
fice and  John's  no  end  busy.  He's  getting  acquainted 
with  Ward — funny  how  things  work  out!  But  if  John 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  381 

has  any  idea  about  you  and  Ward  he  never  lets  on.  I 
thought  you  might  like  to  know  that." 

"Well,  he's  probably  done  some  thinking,"  Grace 
replied  soberly;  "John  isn't  stupid." 

"He's  my  idea  of  a  prince,  if  you  ask  me!  He's 
making  a  big  hit  with  my  family;  mother  thinks  he's 
the  grandest  young  man  who  ever  came  up  the  pike. 
She's  got  him  carrying  all  his  mending  and  darning 
out  to  her  to  do  and  he's  so  nice  to  her  I'm  getting 
jealous!" 

Ill 

Roy  came  home  for  a  week-end,  but  only  after  his 
mother  had  written  him  repeatedly  urging  a  visit.  He 
had  really  been  at  work — Mrs.  Durland  had  this  from 
the  Dean  of  the  Law  School — but  his  enthusiasm  for 
the  profession  his  mother  had  chosen  for  him  was  still 
at  low  ebb.  He  wanted  to  find  work  on  a  newspaper; 
he  wanted  to  go  West;  anything  was  preferable  to 
setting  up  as  a  lawyer  in  an  office  of  his  own.  It  was 
disclosed  that  Mrs.  Durland  had  arranged  to  mort- 
gage the  house  to  raise  money  with  which  to  establish 
him.  But  it  was  the  definite  announcement  of  her 
purpose  to  bring  Roy's  wife  home  immediately  after 
commencement,  that  the  young  couple  might,  as  Mrs. 
Durland  put  it,  begin  their  life  together,  that  pre- 
cipitated a  crisis  in  Ethel's  relations  with  her  family. 

The  baby  would  be  born  in  August  and  Mrs.  Dur- 
land contended  that  the  family  dignity  would  suffer 
far  less  if  Roy  announced  his  marriage  when  he  left 
the  university  and  joined  his  wife  in  his  father's  house 
at  Indianapolis. 

Ethel  was  outraged  by  the  plan.  She  would  not 
live  under  the  same  roof  with  that  creature;  and  she 


382  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

availed  herself  of  the  opportunity  to  tell  Roy  what 
she  thought  of  him.  He  had  always  been  petted  and 
indulged;  his  mother  had  favored  him  over  the  other 
children;  they  had  all  been  obliged  to  practice  the 
most  rigid  self-denial  to  educate  him,  and  this  was 
the  result! 

Roy  surlily  martyrized  himself  in  meeting  his  sis- 
ter's attack.  He  had  never  wanted  to  go  to  college; 
he  hated  the  law  and  if  it  hadn't  been  for  John  Moore's 
stupid  meddling  he  would  have  extricated  himself 
from  the  scrape  with  the  girl  he  had  been  forced  to 
marry. 

"I  never  thought  you'd  really  do  it,  mother,"  Ethel 
moaned.  "I  didn't  think  you'd  be  cruel  enough  to 
visit  this  shame  on  me.  Everybody  will  talk;  we'll 
be  ostracized  by  all  our  friends." 

Grace's  attempt  to  restore  harmony1  only  infuriated 
Ethel. 

"I've  told  Osgood  the  whole  story,"  Ethel  an- 
nounced. "I  felt  that  was  the  only  honorable  thing  to 
do  and  he's  been  splendid  about  it.  We've  been  en- 
gaged since  Easter  and  he's  ready  to  marry  me  at  any 
time.  I'd  hoped  we'd  be  able  to  live  at  home  for  a 
little  while,  but  now  I'm  going!  I  can  already  feel 
that  abandoned  creature  in  the  house!  Osgood  has  a 
good  offer  in  Cincinnati  and  I'll  marry  him  tomorrow 
and  go  away  and  never  come  back!" 

"I  would  if  I  were  you,"  said  Grace,  as  Ethel 
stalked  from  the  room.  "Safety  first!  Grab  all  the 
life  belts." 

Ethel  paused  and  pointed  an  accusing  finger  at 
Grace. 

"You!  You're  a  pretty  one  to  talk!" 

Stephen  Durland  raised  his  head,  coughed  and  re- 
turned to  his  reading.  Roy  announced  that  he  was  go- 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  383 

ing  down  town.  The  front  door  slammed  upon  him 
and  Mrs.  Durland  burst  into  tears. 

"You  don't  think — you  don't  think  Ethel  means 
she's  going!" 

"I  certainly  hope  she  means  it,"  Grace  replied  wear- 
ily. "Osgood's  not  a  bad  fellow  and  maybe  he  can  beat 
some  sense  into  her." 

iy 

Grace  had  never  been  in  New  York  before  and  Miss 
Reynolds  gave  her  every  opportunity  to  see  the  sights. 
The  investigation  of  devices  for  housing  business 
women  Miss  Reynolds  pursued  with  her  usual  through- 
ness,  broadening  her  inquiry  to  include  a  survey  of 
the  general  social  effort  in  the  metropolis.  She  accepted 
no  invitations  in  which  Grace  could  not  be  included, 
with  the  result  that  they  dined  or  had  luncheon  in  half 
a  dozen  private  homes,  and  were  entertained  in  fash- 
ionable restaurants  and  at  the  Colony  Club. 

"You're  so  good  to  me!"  said  Grace  one  night  when 
they  reached  their  hotel  after  a  dinner  at  the  house 
of  some  old  friends  of  Miss  Reynolds.  "All  the 
guests  were  somebody  except  me!  I  wonder  what 
they'd  think  if  they  knew  that  only  a  little  while  ago 
I  was  Number  Eighteen  in  Shipley's!" 

"They  knew  you  were  good  to  look  at,"  Miss  Rey- 
nolds replied,  "and  talked  well  and  had  very  pretty 
manners.  Nothing  else  was  any  of  their  business." 

"But  sometimes — sometimes,  Cousin  Beulah,  when 
your  friends  are  so  kind  and  treat  me  so  beautifully, 
I  can't  help  thinking  that  if  they  knew  about  me " 

"My  dear  Grace,  this  busy  world's  a  lot  kinder 
than  it  gets  credit  for  being!  Even  if  the  world  knew 
it  wouldn't  condemn  you." 


384  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

They  had  visited  a  settlement  house  on  the  East 
Side  one  morning  and  were  driving  to  Washington 
Square  for  luncheon  with  a  friend  of  Miss  Reynolds 
who  lived  in  one  of  the  old  houses  which  she  said 
Grace  ought  to  see. 

"We're  a  bit  early  for  our  engagement,"  Miss  Rey- 
nolds remarked  as  they  reached  Broadway.  "We've 
got  half  an  hour  to  look  at  Trinity." 

They  walked  quickly  through  the  yard,  that  Grace 
might  experience  the  thrill  of  reading  the  historic 
names  on  the  grave-stones,  and  entered  the  church. 
It  was  the  noon  hour  and  sightseers  mingling  with  the 
employees  from  the  towering  buildings  came  and  went. 
Miss  Reynolds  and  Grace  sat  down  in  a  pew  near 
the  door.  A  service  was  in  progress  and  Grace,  un- 
familiar with  liturgic  churches,  at  once  fixed  her  at- 
tention on  the  chancel.  The  minister's  voice  recit- 
ing the  office,  the  sense  of  age  communicated  by  the 
walls  of  the  edifice,  all  had  their  effect  on  her.  She 
felt  singularly  alone.  The  heartache  that  had  troubled 
her  little  since  she  left  home  again  became  acute. 
Here  was  peace,  but  it  was  a  peace  that  mocked  rather 
than  calmed  the  spirit.  .  .  . 

.  .  .  "We  humbly  beseech  thee  for  all  sorts  and 
conditions  of  men."  .  .  . 

The  mournful  cadence  of  the  prayer  only  increased 
her  loneliness.  She  was  like  a  child  who,  watching  night 
descend  in  a  strange  place,  is  overcome  by  a  stifling 
nostalgia.  Her  throat  ached  with  inexpressible  emo- 
tions; her  heart  fluttered  like  a  wild  bird  in  her  breast. 
She  knew  she  wanted  Trenton;  nothing  else  mattered; 
no  one  else  could  ever  fill  his  place.  She  bowed  her 
head  and  her  lips  trembled. 

A  man  walked  hesitatingly  down  the  aisle  and  slip- 
ped into  a  pew  in  front  of  her.  Apparently  he  was 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  385 

one  of  the  many  who  were  seeking  relief  from  the 
world's  turmoil.  She  remained  motionless,  staring. 
It  was  unbelievable  that  it  could  be  Trenton;  and  yet 
beyond  question  it  was  he.  His  coming  was  like  an 
answer  to  prayer.  She  recalled  what  he  had  written 
after  his  illness,  that  he  had  thought  of  her  once  so 
intently  that  he  had  brought  her  into  the  room.  .  .  . 

She  remembered  that  he  had  once  told  her  that 
his  New  York  office  was  near  Trinity.  Perhaps  it 
was  his  habit  to  drop  in  as  he  passed. 

Miss  Reynolds,  turning  the  pages  of  a  prayer  book, 
evidently  had  not  noticed,  or  had  failed  to  recognize 
him.  Presently  she  glanced  at  her  watch,  touched 
Grace's  arm  and  nodded  that  it  was  time  to  go.  As 
they  paused  in  the  entry  to  look  at  the  bronze  doors 
Grace  decided  not  to  tell  her  friend  that  Trenton  was 
in  the  church;  but  suddenly  he  stood  beside  them. 

"This  is  surely  more  than  a  coincidence,"  he  said, 
smiling  gravely  as  he  shook  hands.  "I  pass  here  every 
day  but  I  hadn't  been  in  before  for  years.  But  to- 
day  " 

They  walked  together  to  the  gate,  Grace  silent, 
Miss  Reynolds  and  Trenton  discussing  the  weather 
to  cover  their  embarrassment.  Grace,  still  awed  by 
his  appearance,  saw  that  he  looked  careworn;  even 
when  he  smiled  at  some  remark  of  Miss  Reynolds  his 
eyes  scarcely  brightened. 

"I  have  a  taxi  here  somewhere."  Miss  Reynolds 
was  glancing  about  uncertainly  when  the  machine 
drew  in  at  the  curb. 

"Are  you  staying  in  town  long?"  asked  Trenton  as 
he  opened  the  cab  door. 

"Only  a  few  days,"  Miss  Reynolds  replied  guard- 
edly. "Grace  and  I  are  here  on  a  little  business.  I 
wonder " 


386  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

Without  finishing  the  sentence  she  stepped  into  the 
car  and  gave  the  Washington  Square  address.  Trenton 
rousing  as  he  realized  that  they  were  about  to  leave 
him,  bent  forward  and  took  Grace's  hand. 

"It's  so  good  to  see  you!"  he  said  steadily.  "I'm 
going  West  tonight.  Mrs.  Trenton's  been  very  ill; 
she's  in  a  sanitarium  in  Connecticut."  Then,  aware 
that  he  couldn't  detain  them  longer,  "Miss  Reynolds, 
I'm  sure  you  and  Miss  Durland  will  take  good  care  of 
each  other!" 

"Goodbye,"  said  Grace  faintly  and  watched  him 
disappear  in  the  crowd. 

"I  was  going  to  ask  him  to  come  and  dine  with  us," 
said  Miss  Reynolds  when  the  car  was  in  motion,  "but 
I  changed  my  mind.  And  now  I  wish  I  could  change 
it  again!" 

"I'm  glad  you  didn't,"  Grace  answered  colorlessly. 
"It  would  have  been  a  mistake." 

"Well,  perhaps."  And  Trenton  was  not  referred  to 
again. 

But  all  the  rest  of  the  day  Grace  lived  upon  the 
memory  of  his  look,  his  voice.  He  was  still  in  a  world 
she  knew;  any  turn  of  the  long  road  might  bring  him 
in  sight  again. 


A  week  in  Chicago  followed  a  fortnight  in  New 
York  and  Grace  had  filled  a  large  portfolio  with  notes 
and  pamphlets  bearing  upon  Miss  Reynolds's  pro- 
jected house  for  business  girls.  Her  mother's  letters 
had  kept  her  informed  of  family  affairs  and  she  was 
prepared  to  find  Ethel  gone  and  Roy's  wife  estab- 
lished in  the  house.  Ethel  had  refused  to  be  married 
at  home  and  the  ceremony  had  been  performed  by 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  387 

Dr.  Ridgely  in  his  study,  with  only  Mrs.  Durland 
present  to  represent  the  family.  Ethel  and  Haley  had 
left  at  once  for  Cincinnati,  where  they  were  to  make 
their  home. 

"I  did  the  best  I  could  about  it,  Grace,"  Mrs. 
Durland  kept  repeating  pathetically.  "I  hated  to 
have  her  go  that  way,  but  she  would  do  it.  She  said 
some  pretty  unkind  things  to  your  father  after  you 
left,  and  he  didn't  go  to  see  her  married." 

For  Sadie,  the  new  member  of  the  family,  Grace 
formed  an  immediate  liking.  The  girl  was  so  anxious 
to  be  friendly  and  to  do  her  share  of  the  domestic 
labor  and  so  appreciative  of  kindness  that  she  brought 
a  new  element  of  cheer  into  the  household.  She  was 
intelligent,  and  amusing,  after  a  slangy  fashion;  even 
Stephen  Durland  laughed  at  her  jokes. 

Grace  found  that  her  position  as  secretary  to  Miss 
Reynolds  was  far  from  being  a  sinecure.  She  was 
present  at  all  the  conferences  with  the  architect  who 
had  now  been  engaged,  and  when  the  announcement 
of  the  new  club  for  business  girls  could  no  longer 
be  deferred  it  fell  to  Grace's  lot  to  answer  the  letters 
that  poured  in  upon  Miss  Reynolds.  A  bedroom  was 
fitted  up  as  an  office  and  there  Grace  spent  half  of 
every  day,  keeping  accounts,  typing  letters  and  an- 
swering the  importunities  of  the  telephone. 

One  day  in  June  Grace  went  to  Judge  Sanders' 
office  on  an  errand  for  Miss  Reynolds.  It  was  merely 
a  matter  of  leaving  an  abstract  of  title  for  examina- 
tion, but  as  she  was  explaining  what  was  wanted  to 
the  office  girl  John  Moore  came  out  of  one  of  the 
inner  rooms. 

"Caught  in  the  act!"  he  exclaimed.  "I've  just  been 
hankering  to  see  you.  Can't  you  give  me  a  few  min- 
utes, right  now?" 


388  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

She  was  really  in  a  hurry,  but  when  he  earnestly 
protested  that  he  had  business  with  her  ske  followed 
him  into  a  room  whose  door  bore  the  inscription:  "Mr. 
Moore." 

"That  looks  terribly  important,  John,"  she  said 
indicating  the  lettering.  "Onward  and  upward!" 

"Well,"  he  said,  when  they  were  seated.  "Mr. 
Kemp's  death  has  thrown  a  lot  of  business  into  the 
office  and  some  of  it  that  doesn't  require  much  brain 
power  they  leave  to  me.  Mr.  Trenton  just  left  a 
few  minutes  ago.  He  came  in  to  see  if  I'd  go  down 
into  Knox  County  to  inventory  a  coal  mine  Kemp 
owned.  I'm  getting  a  lot  of  little  jobs  like  that." 

She  smiled,  as  he  wanted  her  to,  at  his  boyish  pride 
in  his  work.  She  derived  a  deep  pleasure  from  the 
thought  that  Trenton  had  just  been  there.  Trenton 
would  appreciate  John's  qualities;  they  would  ap- 
preciate each  other's  qualities  and  talents. 

"Maybe  you  don't  know,"  John  went  on,  "and 
maybe  I  oughtn't  to  tell  you;  but  right  here  on  my 
desk  are  the  papers  for  your  father  to  sign  away 
his  rights  in  his  motor  patents  and  his  formula  for 
that  non-breakable  spark  plug  porcelain  you  prob- 
ably know  about.  Your  father's  coming  in  tomorrow 
to  sign  up.  Mr.  Trenton  has  left  a  check  here  for 
advance  royalties  that  will  pay  the  Durland  grocery 
bill  for  sometime  to  come!" 

"Do  you  mean  it,  John!  I'd  been  afraid  Mr. 
Kemp's  death  would  end  all  that." 

"Trenton's  the  whole  cheese  in  that  business  now 
and  he  knows  what  he's  doing.  He  says  those  two 
things  are  bound  to  earn  your  father  a  lot  of  money." 

"Father  certainly  deserves  any  success  that  may 
come  to  him.  I'm  so  glad  for  him  and  mother — just 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  389 

now  when  things  at  home  don't  look  particularly 
bright." 

"You're  thinking  of  Roy?  Well,  Roy  will  get  his 
law  degree  but  that  boy  had  no  more  business  in  the 
law  than  I'd  have  in  a  millinery  shop.  I  sneaked  him 
up  here  last  Sunday  and  had  Mr.  Trenton  take  a 
look  at  him.  You  know  Roy's  a  smart,  likable  chap, 
with  a  friendly  way  of  meeting  people  and  I  thought 
maybe  there  was  a  job  somewhere  in  the  Kemp  organi- 
zation that  he'd  fit  into." 

"I  don't  know — "  began  Grace,  doubtfully,  remem- 
bering Roy's  anger  at  John's  meddling. 

"Oh,  Roy  took  it  fine!  Mr.  Trenton's  taken  a 
fancy  to  him;  in  fact  they  liked  each  other  immensely. 
Roy's  to  get  his  sheepskin  and  then  go  right  into 
the  Kemp  factory  for  six  months  to  get  an  idea  of 
the  business  and  then  transfer  to  the  sales  depart- 
ment." 

"Why,  John,  that's  wonderful!"  exclaimed  Grace. 
"You  don't  know  how  relieved  I  am." 

"You're  not  half  as  relieved  as  Roy  is  to  dodge  the 
law,"  John  chuckled.  "That  boy  will  make  good. 
I'd  told  Mr.  Trenton  all  about  him  and  he  was  as 
kind  to  him  as  a  father.  Roy  wanted  me  to  ask  you  to 
spring  the  news  on  his  mother.  She's  so  keen  about 
having  him  a  lawyer  that  he's  afraid  to  tell  her  him- 
self." 

"Yes,  John;  I'll  do  it  tonight.  And  thank  you  I 
Oh,  thank  you  for  everything!" 

VI 

Stephen  Durland's  announcement  that  tke  Kemp 
Company  had  taken  up  the  option  on  his  motor  and 


390  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

made  a  contract  for  the  manufacture  of  the  porcelain 
tempered  in  some  degree  his  wife's  disappointment 
when  Grace  broke  the  news  that  Roy  had  renounced 
the  law.  Mrs.  Durland  took  comfort  in  the  fact  that 
Roy  had  really  passed  the  law  examinations  and  was 
admitted  to  practice  with  the  rest  of  his  class.  This 
measurably  satisfied  her  family  pride  by  enrolling 
Roy  on  the  list  of  attorneys  of  his  state  in  succession 
to  his  grandfather  and  great-grandfather.  Roy,  how- 
ever, was  much  less  thrilled  by  this  than  by  the  pros- 
pect of  having  at  once  employment  that  he  felt  was 
within  his  powers.  The  idea  of  making  machinery  had 
never  interested  him,  but  the  idea  of  selling  it  appealed 
to  him  strongly  and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  he 
found  himself  in  sympathy  and  accord  with  his  father. 

Stephen  Durland  had  money  in  the  bank  and  was 
reasonably  sure  of  a  good  income  for  the  remainder 
of  his  life.  The  Kemp  publicity  department  had  given 
wide  advertisement  to  his  discoveries,  and  several  tech- 
nical journals  had  asked  for  photographs  of  the  in- 
ventor, the  taking  of  which  Grace  joyfully  super- 
vised. A  kind  fate  having  intervened  to  prevent  the 
mortgaging  of  the  old  home  Mrs.  Durland  was  now 
considering  selling  it  and  satisfying  the  great  desire 
of  her  heart  by  moving  beyond  the  creek. 

Ethel,  hearing  of  the  family's  unexpected  pros- 
perity, had  been  up  for  a  visit,  and  returned  to 
Cincinnati  with  a  supply  of  linens  for  her  apartment. 
Her  mother  thought  it  only  fair  that  she  should  par- 
ticipate in  the  good  luck  that  had  at  last  overtaken 
the  Durlands  and  Grace  agreed  with  her.  Haley's 
earnings  were  meager  and  Ethel  received  the  gift  gra- 
ciously. She  even  volunteered  a  few  generous  words 
to  her  young  sister-in-law,  about  whom  she  admitted 
she  might  have  been  mistaken. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  391 

Durland  declined  to  become  interested  in  the  pro- 
posed change  of  residence.  In  fact  he  continued  to 
appear  dazed  by  his  good  fortune  and  Grace,  for  years 
familiar  with  his  moods,  was  mystified  by  his  conduct. 

One  evening  when  they  were  alone  on  the  front 
porch  she  asked  a  question  about  affairs  at  the  fac- 
tory, really  in  the  hope  that  he  would  speak  of  Tren- 
ton. When  he  had  answered  perfunctorily  that  every- 
thing was  running  smoothly  and  that  they  would  be 
ready  to  put  the  new  motor  on  the  market  in  six 
months  he  remarked  that  Trenton  was  away  a  good 
deal. 

"His  wife's  sick,  you  know;  down  East  somewhere. 
I  guess  he's  had  a  good  deal  to  worry  him.  When 
he's  in  town  he  works  hard.  There's  a  lot  to  do 
moving  the  stuff  from  Cummings's  old ,  plant,  and 
putting  up  the  new  buildings." 

"Mr.  Trenton's  certainly  been  a  good  friend  to 
you,  daddy.  But  of  course  he  wouldn't  have  taken 
your  patents  if  they  hadn't  been  all  they  promised  to 
be." 

Durland  turned  his  head  to  make  sure  they  were 
not  overheard.  Mrs.  Durland  was  somewhere  in  the 
house  and  Roy  and  Sadie  had  gone  for  a  walk.  Dur- 
land cleared  his  throat  and  said  in  a  low  tone: 

"I'd  never  have  got  those  things  right,  Grace.  Tren- 
ton straightened  me  out  on  a  lot  o'  points  that  were 
too  much  for  me.  He  worked  with  me  every  night  for 
a  week  till  everything  came  right.  He  oughtn't  to  give 
rne  the  credit." 

"Now,  daddy,  that's  just  like  you!  Of  course, 
they're  all  your  ideas!  But  it  was  fine  of  Mr.  Trenton 
to  help  you  round  them  out." 

"It  was  more  than  that,  Grace,"  Durland  persisted 
stubbornly. 


392  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

This,  then,  was  the  cause  of  her  father's  preoccu- 
pation and  the  embarrassment  with  which  he  had  been 
hearing  himself  praised.  It  was  Trenton's  genius, 
not  his,  that  had  perfected  the  motor!  Something 
sweet  and  wistful  like  the  scents  of  the  summer  night 
crept  into  her  heart.  She  was  happy,  supremely 
happy,  in  the  thought  that  Trenton  had  done  this, 
given  her  father  the  benefit  of  his  skill,  and  for  her. 
Yes;  it  was  all  for  her,  and  for  those  close  and  dear 
to  her.  But  her  father's  confession  moved  her 
greatly.  The  light  from  the  window  fell  upon  his  hand, 
which  seemed  to  her  to  symbolize  failure  as  it  hung 
inert  from  the  arm  of  his  chair. 

"Oh,  lots  of  inventors  must  accept  help  from  ex- 
perts, when  they've  got  as  far  as  they  can  by  them- 
selves. Don't  you  worry  about  that!  I'm  sure  it 
was  a  pleasure  to  Mr.  Trenton  to  help  you  over  your 
difficulties.  He  naturally  wouldn't  want  any  of  the 
credit  when  you  did  all  the  real  work." 

Durland  shook  his  head  impatiently. 

"I  couldn't  have  done  it!"  he  said  huskily.  "I  don't 
understand  even  now  how  he  got  the  results  he  did!" 

"Oh,  pshaw!"  she  exclaimed  with  a  happy  little 
laugh.  "No  man  would  be  so  generous  of  his  talents 
as  all  that;  men  are  not  built  that  way." 

But  she  knew  that  it  was  true,  and  that  it  was  be- 
cause Trenton  loved  her  that  he  had  saved  her  father 
from  another  and  crushing  failure. 


VII 


She  was  able  to  keep  track  of  Trenton's  movements 
through  Irene,  who  got  her  information  from  John. 
Grace  and  Trenton  were  holding  strictly  to  their 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  393 

agreement  not  to  see  each  other.  Once,  as  she  waited 
for  the  traffic  to  break  at  Washington  and  Meridian 
Streets,  Trenton  passed  in  a  car.  Craig  was  driving 
and  Trenton,  absorbed  in  a  sheaf  of  papers,  didn't 
lift  his  head.  He  was  so  near  for  a  fleeting  second 
that  she  could  have  touched  him.  This,  then,  was  to 
be  the  way  of  it,  their  paths  steadily  diverging;  or 
if  they  met  it  would  be  as  strangers  who  had  ceased 
to  have  any  message  for  each  other. 

Sadie's  baby  was  born  in  August  and  Roy  mani- 
fested an  unexpected  degree  of  paternal  pride  in  his 
offspring.  The  summer  wore  on  to  September.  Now 
and  then  as  she  surveyed  herself  in  the  mirror  it 
seemed  to  Grace  that  she  was  growing  old  and  that 
behind  her  lay  a  long  lifetime,  crowded  with  experi- 
ence. She  felt  herself  losing  touch  with  the  world. 
Miss  Reynolds,  with  all  her  kindness,  was  exacting,. 
Grace  saw  no  young  people  and  her  amusements  were 
few.  Irene,  who  watched  her  with  a  keenly  critical 
eye,  remarked  frequently  upon  her  good  looks,  declar- 
ing that  she  was  growing  handsomer  all  the  time. 

"You  won't  really  reach  perfection  till  you're  forty," 
said  Irene,  "and  have  some  gray  in  your  raven  tresses. 
I'll  look  like  a  fat  yellow  cucumber  when  I'm  forty!" 

Unless  all  signs  failed  Irene  and  John  were  deeply  in 
love  with  each  other — the  old  story  of  the  attraction  of 
apparently  irreconcilable  natures. 

"I've  told  John  everything — all  about  Tommy,  of 
course,  to  give  him  a  chance  to  escape,"  Irene  con- 
fided. "But  I  didn't  jar  him  a  bit.  That  man's  faith 
would  make  a  good  woman  of  Jezabel.  John's  already 
got  some  little  jobs — secretaryships  of  corporations 
that  Judge  Sanders  threw  his  way.  He  thinks  we  can 
be  married  early  next  year  and  I'm  studying  real 
estate  ads.  I've  got  enough  money  to  make  a  pay-* 


394  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

ment  on  a  bungalow  as  far  from  Shipley's  as  a  nickel 
will  carry  me  and  there'll  be  a  cow  and  a  few  choice 
hens.  Back  to  nature  for  me,  dearie  I" 

"Oh,  it's  just  marvelous!"  cried  Grace.  "You  and 
John  are  bound  to  reach  the  high  places.  You've 
got  just  the  qualities  John  needs  to  help  him  get  on. 
When  he  goes  into  politics  after  while  you'll  be  a  big 
asset." 

"I  think  I  might  like  a  few  years  in  Washington," 
Irene  replied  meditatively.  "I've  already  joined  up 
with  a  woman's  political  club  to  learn  how  to  fool  'em 
all  the  timel" 

"Isn't  that  just  like  you  I" 

"But,  Grace " 

"Yes;  Irene." 

"I  love  John."  Irene's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  I've 
talked  so  much  foolish  nonsense  to  you  about  men,  and 
you  must  have  thought  me  hard  and  sordid.  I  wouldn't 
want  you  to  think  I  married  John  just  to  escape  from 
myself.  He's  the  grandest  man  in  the  world,  and  I'd 
die  before  I'd  injure  him,  or  cause  him  a  second's 
heartache.  You  do  believe  that,  don't  you?" 

"Yes;  and  it's  dear  and  beautiful.  I'm  so  glad  for 
both  of  you!  I  hope — I  know,  you  will  be  happy!" 

A  few  days  later  Grace  met  John  in  the  street  and 
he  turned  and  walked  with  her  a  little  way. 
•    "I  guess  Irene's  told  you?    Well,  I  want  to  tell  you, 
too ! "  he  said  with  his  broadest  smile. 
i    "Well,  I  didn't  need  to  be  told,  John!     I  saw  it 
coming.    And  I  congratulate  you  both  with  all  my 
heart." 

"Yes;1 1  knew  you'd  be  glad,  Grace,"  he  said;  then 
his  face  grew  grave.  "You  see  Irene  was  troubled 
a  lot — well  about  little  mistakes  she'd  made.  She  was 
mighty  fine  about  that.  When  I  found  I  loved  her 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  395 

and  she  loved  me,  nothing  else  made  any  difference. 
And  she's  so  strong  and  fine  and  splendid  you  just 
know  it  was  never  in  her  heart  to  do  wrong!" 

"Yes,  John,"  Grace  replied,  touched  by  his  simple 
earnestness,  his  fine  tolerance,  his  anxiety  that  she 
should  know  that  Irene  had  withheld  nothing  of  her 
past  that  could  ever  cast  a  shadow  upon  their  happi- 
ness. 

Late  in  September  Miss  Reynolds  proposed  to 
Grace  that  they  go  to  Colorado  to  look  at  the  moun- 
tains. The  architect  could  be  relied  on  to  watch  the 
construction  of  the  club  house  and  Miss  Reynolds  in- 
sisted that  Grace  had  earned  a  vacation. 

They  established  themselves  in  a  hotel  that  com- 
manded a  view  of  a  great  valley  with  snowy  summits 
beyond  and  Grace  tramped  and  rode  and  won  a  meas- 
urable serenity  of  spirit.  Miss  Reynolds  may  have 
thought  that  amid  new  scenes  the  girl  would  forget 
Trenton,  but  the  look  that  came  into  Grace's  eyes 
at  times  discouraged  the  hope.  Then  one  evening,  as 
they  sat  in  the  hotel  office  reading  their  mail  Miss 
Reynolds  laid  a  Denver  newspaper  on  Grace's  knee 
and  quietly  pointed  to  a  headline:  "Death  of  Mary 
Graham  Trenton." 

The  end  had  come  suddenly  in  the  sanatarium 
where  Mrs.  Trenton  had  been  under  treatment.  Her 
husband,  the  dispatch  stated,  was  with  her  when 
she  died. 

"She  seemed  ill  when  she  was  at  my  house,"  re- 
marked Miss  Reynolds;  "she  was  frightfully  nervous 
and  seemed  to  be  constantly  forcing  herself.  That 
tired  look  in  her  eyes  gave  the  impression  of  dissipa- 
tion. I'm  ashamed  to  say  it  but  I  really  thought  she 
might  be  addicted  to  drugs." 

"I'm  sorry,"  Grace  murmured,  numbed,  bewildered 


396  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

by  the  news.  She  had  never  taken  the  reports  of 
Mrs.  Trenton's  illness  seriously,  believing  Ward's  wife 
was  feigning  illness  to  arouse  her  husband's  pity — per- 
haps in  the  hope  of  reawakening  his  love.  It  had  never 
occurred  to  her  that  she  might  die. 

As  soon  as  possible  Grace  excused  herself  and  went 
to  her  room,  where  she  flung  herself  on  the  bed  and 
lay  for  a  long  time  in  the  dark,  pondering.  In  spite 
of  their  agreement  not  to  write  she  had  hoped  con- 
stantly to  hear  from  him;  and  his  silence  she  had  in- 
terpreted as  meaning  that  he  had  found  it  easy  to 
forget.  She  now  attributed  his  silence  to  the  remorse 
that  had  probably  assailed  him  when  he  found  that 
Mrs.  Trenton  was  hopelssly  ill. 

VIII 

Grace  had  been  home  a  week  when  she  received  a 
letter  from  Trenton,  written  in  Pittsburgh.  He  was 
closing  up  his  home;  looking  after  the  settlement  of 
Mrs.  Trenton's  estate.  She  had  bequeathed  her  con- 
siderable property  to  the  societies  for  social  reform 
in  which  she  had  been  interested.  He  hoped  to  be 
in  Indianapolis  shortly,  he  wrote,  and  continued: 

.  .  .  "My  thoughts  in  these  past  weeks  have 
not  been  happy  ones;  but  I  must  turn  now  to  the 
future.  In  my  dark  hours  I  have  groped  toward  you, 
felt  the  need  of  your  leading  hand.  I  love  you.  That 
is  the  one  great  fact  in  the  world.  Whatever  I  have 
left  to  me  of  life  is  yours;  and  it  is  now  my  right  to 
give  it.  ...  It  was  my  fate,  not  my  fault,  that 
I  learned  to  love  you.  Nothing  can  change  that.  Let 
me  begin  over  again  and  prove  my  love  for  you — 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  397 

win  you  as  it  is  a  woman's  right  to  be  won,  in  the 
world's  eyes.  I  want  you  to  bear  my  name;  belong 
to  me  truly,  help  me  to  find  and  keep  the  path  of 
happiness." 

She  did  not  understand  herself  as  the  days  passed 
and  she  felt  no  impulse  to  reply.  She  loved  him  still 
— there  was  no  question  of  that — but  she  tortured 
herself  with  the  idea  that  he  had  written  only  from 
a  chivalrous  sense  of  obligation.  Trenton  was  free; 
but  she  too  was  free;  and  marriage  was  an  uncertain 
quantity.  She  encouraged  in  herself  the  belief  that  to 
marry  him  would  be  only  to  invite  unhappiness.  While 
she  was  still  debating  with  herself,  she  learned  from 
Irene  that  Trenton  was  again  in  town  and  working 
hard. 

The  new  club  for  business  girls,  which  Miss  Rey- 
nolds decided  to  name  Friendship  House,  was  in  pro- 
cess of  furnishing  and  was  to  be  opened  on  Thanks- 
giving Day. 

Nothing  in  the  preparations  had  proved  so  embar- 
rassing as  the  choice  of  the  first  occupants.  It  might 
have  seemed  that  all  the  young  women  in  town  were 
clamoring  for  admission  and  only  fifty  could  be  ac- 
commodated. Miss  Reynolds  and  Grace  spent  many 
hours  interviewing  applicants.  Then,  too,  there  was 
the  matter  of  working  out  a  plan  for  the  general 
management  of  Friendship  House  until  the  club  mem- 
bers took  hold  of  it  for  themselves. 

"The  girls  can  make  their  own  rules,"  said  Miss 
Reynolds.  "But  I'm  going  to  have  one  little  rule 
printed  and  put  in  every  room  and  worked  into  all 
the  doormats  and  stamped  into  the  linen — just  two 
words — Be  Kind!  If  we'd  all  live  up  to  that  this 
would  be  a  lot  more  comfortable  world  to  live  in!" 


398  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

Being  so  constantly  at  Miss  Reynolds's  Grace  had 
heard  the  Bob  Cummingses  mentioned  frequently.  The 
merger  had  obliterated  the  name  from  the  industrial 
life  of  the  city;  the  senior  Cummings  had  gone  West 
to  live  with  his  eldest  son  and  Miss  Reynolds  had 
spoken  frequently  of  the  plight  in  which  tie  collapse 
of  the  family  fortunes  had  left  Bob.  Evelyn  came 
in  one  morning  when  Grace  was  alone  in  the  impro- 
vised office. 

"We've  sold  our  house,"  she  announced,  after  they 
had  talked  awhile.  "It  was  mine,  you  know;  a  wed- 
ding present  from  my  uncle.  And  I've  got  about  a 
thousand  a  year.  So  I'm  going  to  turn  Bob  loose 
at  his  music.  He's  already  got  a  job  as  organist 
in  Dr.  Ridgley's  church  and  he's  going  to  teach  and 
do  some  lecturing  on  music.  He  can  do  that  wonder- 
fully." 

"That's  perfectly  splendid!"  said  Grace  warmly. 
''But  it's  too  bad — the  business  troubles.  I've  wanted 
to  tell  you  how  sorry  I  am." 

"Well,  I'm  not  so  sure  any  one  ought  to  be  sorry 
for  us.  Our  difficulties  have  brought  Bob  and  me 
closer  together,  and  our  chances  of  happiness  are 
brighter  than  on  our  wedding  day;  really  they  are! 
I'm  saying  this  to  you  because  you  know  Bob  so  well, 
and  I  think  you'll  understand." 

Grace  was  not  sure  that  she  did  understand  and 
when  Evelyn  left  she  meditated  for  a  long  time  upon 
the  year's  changes.  She  had  so  jauntily  gone  out  to 
meet  the  world,  risking  her  happiness  in  her  confi- 
dence that  she  was  capable  of  directing  her  own  des- 
tiny; but  life  was  not  so  easy!  Life  was  an  inexor- 
able schoolmaster  who  set  very  hard  problems  indeed ! 

Irene,  pretending  to  be  jealous  of  Miss  Reynolds, 


BROKER  BARRIERS  399 

declared  that  there  was  no  reason  why  Grace,  in 
becoming  a  philantrophist  should  forget  her  old 
friends.  This  was  on  an  afternoon  when  Grace,  in 
Shipley's  to  pick  up  some  odds  and  ends  for  Friend- 
ship House,  looked  into  the  ready-to-wear  floor  for 
a  word  with  Irene. 

Hard-pressed  to  defend  her  neglect  she  accepted 
an  invitation  to  accompany  Irene  and  John  to  a  movie 
that  night. 

"John  will  have  to  work  for  an  hour  or  so  but 
can  get  in  for  the  second  show.  You  just  come  up 
to  Judge  Sanders'  office  about  eight  and  we  can  have 
an  old-fashioned  heart-to-heart  talk  till  John's  ready. 
You  never  take  me  into  your  confidence  any  more," 
she  concluded  with  an  injured  air. 

"I  don't  have  any  confidences;  but  if  I  had  you 
certainly  wouldn't  escape." 

" You're  not  seeing,  Ward,  I  suppose?"  Irene  asked 
carelessly. 

"No,"  Grace  replied  with  badly  feigned  indiffer- 
ence. "I  haven't  seen  him  and  I  have  no  intention 
of  seeing  him  again." 

"I  suppose  it's  all  over,"  said  Irene  stifling  a  yawn. 

"Yes,  it's  all  over,"  Grace  replied  testily. 

"Strange  but  Ward  just  can't  get  that  idea!  Of 
course  he's  had  a  lot  to  do  and  think  about  but  he'd 
never  force  himself  on  you." 

"No;  he  wouldn't  do  that,"  Grace  assented. 

"Ward's  a  free  man,"  said  Irene  dreamily.  "He'll 
probably  marry  again." 

"Irene!  It  was  silly  of  me  to  be  as  crazy  about 
him  as  I  was.  That  freedom  I  used  to  talk  about 
was  all  rubbish.  We  can't  do  as  we  please  in  this 
world, — you  and  I  both  learned  that!  And  after — 


400  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

well — after  all  that  happened  I  could  never  marry 
Ward.  And  it  would  be  a  mistake  for  him  to  marry 
me — a  girl — who " 

"Grace  Durland!"  Irene  interrupted  with  lofty 
scorn,  "you  are  talking  like  an  idiot!  You're  insult- 
ing yourself  and  you're  insulting  Ward.  I  know  a 
few  things.  He  telephoned  you  at  Miss  Reynolds's 
twice  and  asked  to  see  you  and  you  refused.  Don't 
let  Miss  Beulah  Reynolds  intimidate  you!  She  took 
you  to  Colorado  hoping  you'd  forget  Ward!" 

"Miss  Reynolds  is  perfectly  fine!"  Grace  flared. 
"She's  never  said  a  word  against  Ward!" 

"Oh,  she  wouldn't  need  to  say  it!  She's  just  trying 
to  keep  you  away  from  him.  I'm  not  knocking  Beu- 
lah— she's  all  right;  but  when  there's  a  man  in  the 
world  who  is  eating  his  heart  out  about  you,  you  just 
can't  stick  your  nose  in  the  air  and  pretend  you  don't 
know  he's  alive." 

Grace  had  been  proud  of  her  strength  in  denying 
Trenton  the  interview  for  which  he  had  asked;  but 
she  left  Irene  with  an  unquiet  heart.  Trenton  was 
lonely,  and  his  letter  had  been  written  in  a  fine  and 
tender  spirit.  She  knew  that  she  was  guilty 
of  dishonesty  in  trying  to  persuade  herself  that  the 
nature  of  their  past  association  made  marriage  with 
him  impossible.  He  had  said  nothing  that  even  re- 
motely suggested  this.  On  the  other  hand  he  had 
declared  plainly  that  sooner  or  later  he  would  have 
her,  meaning,  of  course,  through  marriage.  She  de- 
spised herself  for  her  inconsistencies.  She  had  told 
him  that  she  loved  him;  love  alone  could  have  justi- 
fied their  relationship;  and  yet  she  was  viewing  him 
in  the  harshest  light  without  giving  him  the  hearing 
for  which  he  had  asked  at  the  earliest  moment  pos- 
sible. 


BROKEN  BARRIERS  401 

IX 

She  looked  forward  eagerly  to  the  promised  talk 
with  Irene  and  after  supper  she  hurried  down  town 
and  was  shot  upward  in  the  tall  office  building.  She 
found  Irene  and  John  sitting  opposite  each  other  at 
a  large  flat  top  desk.  Irene  was  helping  John  to 
compare  descriptions  of  property  but  she  would  be 
free  in  a  moment.  He  showed  Grace  into  the  big 
library  and  laughingly  gave  her  a  law  magazine  to 
read,  saying  it  was  the  lightest  literature  the  place 
afforded. 

The  dingy  volumes  on  the  shelves  impressed  her 
with  a  sense  of  the  continuity  of  law  through  all  the 
ages.  She  glanced  idly  at  the  titles,  Torts,  Contracts, 
Wills,  Injunctions, — there  must,  in  this  world,  be  or- 
der, rule  and  law!  Life,  nobly  considered,  was  im- 
possible without  law.  It  was  the  height  of  folly  that 
she  had  ever  fancied  herself  a  rebel,  confident  of  her 
right  to  do  as  she  pleased.  She  had  made  her  mis- 
takes; henceforth  she  meant  to  walk  circumspectly 
in  the  eyes  of  all  men.  She  envied  Irene  her  happiness 
with  John;  as  for  herself,  love  had  brought  her  noth- 
ing but  sorrow  and  heartache. 

Her  speculations  were  interrupted  by  the  rustle 
of  papers  in  the  adjoining  room.  The  door  was  half 
ajar  and  glancing  in  she  saw  a  man  seated  at  a  desk, 
busily  scanning  formidable  looking  documents  and 
affixing  his  signature. 

Absorbed  in  his  work  he  was  evidently  unaware 
that  he  was  observed.  Her  heart  beat  wildly  as  she 
watched  him.  She  stifled  a  desire  to  call  to  him; 
checked  an  impulse  to  run  to  him.  Irene  had  played 
a  trick  upon  her  in  thus  bringing  her  so  near  to 
Trenton!  She  wondered  whether  he  had  seen  her  and 


402  BROKEN  BARRIERS 

was  purposely  ignoring  her.  Or,  he  might  think  she 
had  suggested  this  to  Irene.  Her  face  burned;  she 
would  escape  somehow.  As  she  watched  him  he  lifted 
his  head  with  a  sigh,  threw  himself  back  wearily  in  his 
chair  and  stared  at  the  wall.  No;  she  would  not 
speak  to  him;  never  again  would  she  speak  to  him. 
Panic-stricken  she  turned  and  began  cautiously  tip- 
toeing toward  the  hall  door  with  no  thought  but  to 
leave  the  place  at  once. 

But,  the  door  gained,  her  heart  beat  suffocatingly; 
she  could  not  go;  she  did  love  him,  and  to  run  away — 

She  stole  into  the  room  without  disturbing  his 
reverie,  and  laid  her  hand  lightly  on  his  shoulder. 

"I  couldn't  go — I  couldn't  leave  you — " 

Then  she  was  on  her  knees  beside  him,  looking  up 
into  his  startled  eyes. 

He  raised  her  to  her  feet,  tenderly,  reverently,  gaz- 
ing eagerly  into  her  face. 

"How  did  you  know?"  he  cried,  his  eyes  alight. 

"I  didn't  know;  it  just  happened.  I — I  saw  you — 
and  I  just  couldn't  run  awayl" 

"Oh,  say  that  again!  I've  missed  you  so!  You 
can't  know  how  I've  missed  and  needed  you!" 

"Do  you — do  you  love  me,"  she  asked  softly,  "as 
you  used  to  think  you  did?" 

"Oh,  more — more  than  all  the  world!" 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

305  De  Neve  Drive  -  Parking  Lot  17  •  Box  951388 

LOS  ANGELES,  CALIFORNIA  90095-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library  from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


A     000120450     2 


